


Open Your Eyes

by PrincessButter87



Series: Eyes Open [2]
Category: Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Abusive Parent, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Anxiety, Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV) References, Daddy Issues, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Grief/Mourning, M/M, PTSD, Past Sexual Abuse, Sexual Assault, Trauma, also everyone has daddy issues whoops, hhhhh i'll tag more later, i hate tagging oof, idk maybe not ptsd exactly but sort of, so many of those, so much angst tho im so sorry, tony is totally peters dad
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-17
Updated: 2019-02-25
Packaged: 2019-10-11 22:13:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 27,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17455259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrincessButter87/pseuds/PrincessButter87
Summary: After what may have been the worst few months of her life, MJ is starting to pick the pieces back up. She and Peter are back together, but she's still struggling with her relationship with her mom, recovering from sexual assault, and dealing with the loss of her father. Unwilling to open up to her friends, she turns to other, less healthy, coping mechanisms. While her relationship is back on track, she's learning the hard way that Peter can't fix her, nor can Miles or Harry or any of her friends. It's up to her, and she doesn't think she'll ever be okay again.https://open.spotify.com/playlist/34nzP5NRcfvQTxUQi1ltbg?si=h1Ll2Z4uRAyXV2c3LvEWTw--IMPORTANT NOTE--I'm not updating this fic anymore. I tried really hard to force myself to finish the next chapter, but I don't enjoy writing it anymore, and it's stressing me out too much to want to write for it. I'm still writing on this account, though, I'm updating atelophobia fairly regularly, and I'm not saying I'll never update this fic again, just that for now I'll be taking a break. feel free to contact me on my instagram (mj.aka.michellejones) if you have any questions :)





	1. New Year, New Struggles

**Author's Note:**

> hey kids! if you're here that means you've read all of Chasing Cars (at least I hope so, otherwise get ready for some major spoilers), so thank you for sticking around!! this work won't have a playlist in the same way as it's prequel, but each one will have a single song.  
> Small trigger warning for this chapter - there are two scenes in which a character has a panic attack, so if that's something that could trigger you please take appropriate precautions :)  
> The song for this chapter is Mess Is Mine by Vance Joy. (You can find all the songs on a spotify playlist called "mj's playlist - pb87" spotify user mayashiela also link in the work summary)

**December 31 st **

Peter and I sat on one of Harry’s couches, each of us holding beer bottles, arms around each other.

“How long until the ball drops?” I asked.

“Uh, five minutes,” Peter said, checking his phone.

Harry had the Times Square ball drop on the TV, but there were too many drunk teens between the couch and the TV to see.

Some girl in our chemistry class came and sat down in front of the couch, looking at Peter and I, obviously pretty drunk.

“I thought you two broke up,” she slurred.

Peter looked at me. “Yeah, we did for a while, but we got back together.”

“Well, that’s a damn shame, I could’ve shown you a few things,” she grumbled, standing up.

“Excuse me?” I said, sitting up a little straighter.

“Hey, he’s cute, who wouldn’t tap that?”

Peter tightened his arm around me. “I’m flattered, but I’m also committed,” he said to her.

She huffed and walked away. I was still bristling. “Well, that was annoying.”

Peter laughed, and kissed my cheek. “You’re adorable.”

“Hey! She was moving in on my man!”

“Yeah, now you know how I feel when guys stare at you constantly.”

“You never say anything.”

He shrugged. “You’re pretty gorgeous, I can’t blame them. As long as they don’t hit on you like that guy at Jessie’s birthday party did.”

“That’s fair, I guess.”

People were starting to count down from thirty. I checked behind the couch to see Miles, Cindy, and Connor, on one side of the room, and Harry, Liz, Ned, and Jess on the other. I made eye contact with Harry, then gestured at Connor. He shrugged and turned away.

“Whatcha doing there, babe?” Peter asked.

“Trying to get Harry to make a move on Connor.” I turned back around and leaned against Peter. “It’s not working.”

Peter checked behind the couch. “You sure about that?”

I turned again, to see Harry staring at Connor, clearly trying to make up his mind.

“TEN!”

Harry turned to Ned and Jess and said something quiet to them.

“NINE!”

Ned and Jess waved him off, shooing him towards Connor.

“EIGHT!”

Harry put his drink down on a table.

“SEVEN!”

He started to push through the swarm of people, making his way across the room to Connor.

“SIX!”

“He’s really gonna do it, isn’t he?” Peter asked. I shrugged.

“FIVE!”

Harry turned and gave me this hopeless, lost look. I mouthed, “Just do it,” to him.

“FOUR!”

He finally makes it close to Connor, then hesitates again.

“THREE!”

I gripped Peter’s hand, holding my breath. He had to do it. He had to do it.

“TWO!”

Harry put a hand on Connor’s shoulder, turning Connor towards him.

“ONE!”

Harry grabbed him and kissed him.

“ _HAPPY NEW YEAR!_ ”

“I really didn’t think he was gonna do it,” I admitted to Peter.

Peter laughed. “Have a little more faith in Harry.”

“Peter, I’ve been watching him fail to make a move on Connor since August.”

“Yeah, okay, that’s fair.”

We sat normally on the couch again. “Hey, we didn’t do the new years kiss thing,” I said.

He leaned in and kissed me. “How’s that?”

“Better late than never,” I said, smiling.

**January 1 st **

I woke up to Peter kissing my forehead. God, it was good to wake up like this again.

“Hey, love.”

He whispered, but I was so hungover that it made my head pound.

“Oh, boy. I don’t think I remember anything after midnight.”

Peter chuckled. “Yeah, Liz handed you some schnapps and it was all downhill from there.”

I groaned, pulling Peter’s blankets up over my head. “How am I more hungover than you?”

“Hey, I sobered up by the end of the night. And I drank water. You were too drunk to walk by the end of the night. I’m surprised you didn’t puke or anything.”

“I’m surprised I’m not puking right now.”

Peter got up and left the room, coming back with a tall glass of water and a couple of pills.

“Come on, sit up, this should help.”

I managed to sit up, my back against his wall as he handed me the pills. I popped those in my mouth, then took a sip of water to swallow them.

“Drink all the water, MJ.”

I glared at Peter. “Seriously? You’ve got no hangover?”

He shrugged. “Bit of light sensitivity, but nothing awful.”

I pouted. “Lucky.”

I drank the rest of the water, then stayed there, curled up in his blankets, my head still pounding and my stomach turning.

He sat next to me, stroking my hair, rubbing my back, placing soft kisses over my shoulders.

Eventually, when my stomach started to feel better, I shifted so I was laying across his lap. He pushed some hair out of my face.

“Do you wanna do anything today, or do you wanna just lay here?”

I closed my eyes, trying to will away the headache. “I don’t know. I wanna do stuff but I don’t wanna be hungover while we do stuff, you know?”

He started to massage my scalp a bit. “Yeah, I know.”

I could feel myself starting to doze off, but the pressure of his fingers, rubbing circles into my temples was too nice to stop him, so I let it happen.

I woke up a few hours later, well into the afternoon. I was still in Peter’s lap, but I felt worlds better.

“Hey,” he said, keeping his voice soft.

I sat up, blinking the grogginess out of my eyes. “Hi. How long did I sleep?”

“Uh…four-ish hours?”

“Oh, shit. Sorry.”

He laughed. “It’s okay. Come here.” He pulled me back into his lap and kissed me. I hummed against his lips, wrapping my arms around his neck and leaning into his body. We kept kissing, and I could feel things heating up. He was pressing me against his body, holding me tighter and tighter, and both of us were moaning softly.

He broke the kiss to drop his head and kiss my neck, and I found myself freezing up and feeling sick again.

“Peter,” I said, starting to pull away. He pulled me close again, and then I started to panic. “Peter, stop.” I pushed him back a little, and then scrambled off of the bed and stood up.

“MJ, slow down. I’m sorry I didn’t stop at first, I didn’t realize- are you okay?”

I was hyperventilating, and it felt like the room was closing in on me, and there was that familiar tingling sensation in my nose.

“I’m-” I couldn’t get my voice to work. Words were catching in my throat. I couldn’t breathe. Was I dying?

Peter got up and touched my shoulder, trying to comfort me, but it felt like an electric shock through my body. I jumped back.

“Hey, I’m sorry. I should’ve stopped earlier. I’m sorry.”

I couldn’t catch my breath, and it felt like I was dying, and my whole body was shaking, and I was choking, and my stomach was turning again.

“MJ, love, it’s okay, I’m not gonna hurt you. I’m sorry.”

And suddenly I was very, very dizzy. I started to fall over, and Peter caught me and sat me down on the floor.

“What’s-what’s happening to me?” I panted, tears spilling onto my cheeks.

“You’re panicking,” he whispered. “Mr. Stark gets this sometimes. Here, look at me.”

“Peter-”

“I can help, MJ, and I know I’m the thing that…set you off, and I’m so, so sorry, but _please_ , MJ, just let me help.”

I forced myself to look at him.

“It’s easy, okay? Just name five things you can see.”

I looked around the room. “Um, you, your-your bed…backpack, chem-chemistry textbook, and…a dog toy.”

“Good. What are four things you can touch?”

I had to close my eyes, because the room was spinning. “You, the, um, the floor, the wall, my shirt.”

“Is it- is it okay if I touch you?”

I nodded, eyes still closed. I felt his hands on my shoulders, squeezing gently.

“Focus on that. Name three things you can hear.”

“I can- I can hear you breathing, there’s, um, cars, driving by, and…the radiator.”

“You’re doing great, MJ. Two things you can smell.”

“Your shampoo, and…and I don’t know.”

“It’s okay.” He gave my shoulders another gentle squeeze. “One thing you can taste.”

I opened my eyes, frowning. His eyes were wide and concerned. “I-I don’t know.”

“That’s okay. Just pay attention to my hands, okay? Focus on that.”

I closed my eyes again, trying to zone in on the contact points between his hands and my shoulders.

I was breathing normally again, and I hadn’t even noticed.

“What was that?”

“That was a panic attack, MJ.”

I shook my head. “No, I don’t get panic attacks.”

Peter gave my shoulders another gentle squeeze. “I don’t think it works like that.”

I sighed, feeling drained. “I didn’t like that.”

“I’m sorry,” Peter whispered.

“It’s okay. You didn’t- it’s okay.”

“No, I didn’t ask, and then you pulled away and I didn’t get the hint and-”

“Peter, it’s okay.”

“No, it’s not, MJ. I made you panic.”

I could see everything falling apart in front of me. This is when he realizes how broken I am.

“You didn’t-”

There were tears pooling in his eyes. “If you walk out of here and never want to talk to me again, I’ll understand.”

“Peter, no. I’m not going to do that. I love you,” I said.

“Do you- do you need anything from me? Is there something I can do?”

I didn’t know how to explain it. I wanted to hug him and feel his arms around me and feel safe, but I kept replaying the moment he touched me and it felt like an electric shock.

It felt like Brandon.

“It’s okay, Peter, I just…I think I’m gonna head home.” I started to stand, so he did, too.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. I’ll call you later, okay?”

He looked like a kicked puppy.

“Peter, I’m fine, I promise,” I lied, kissing his cheek.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated, for the millionth time. “I’m so sorry.”

I pressed my lips together. “It’s okay, Peter. It has more to do with me than you.”

He nodded, clearly not believing me.

He walked me to the front door, grabbing one of his sweaters for me as he did, maybe as a sort of peace offering.

“I love you,” he reminded me.

“I love you too, babe.”

I kissed him one last time, then left.

I walked home, shoving my hands deep in the pockets of Peter’s sweater. It was big and cozy and warm, and it smelled like him, and I couldn’t wait to get home and lie down and pull it over my face and just…breathe.

When I got home, my mom started yelling at me. I refused to acknowledge a word of it. I felt drained and apathetic and I didn’t have the energy to deal with it.

I got into my room, and checked the time. It was almost five. I wondered if Miles would be okay with me coming over, or if he and Cindy were still hanging out.

He probably didn’t want to be interrupted. Besides, I felt stupid. Who freaks out over their boyfriend kissing their neck?

I opened the top drawer of my dresser and pulled out the top layer of clothes, revealing several bottles of vodka underneath.

I knew it was bad. I knew I’d been drinking too much and this was a slippery slope, but I deserved it tonight, right?

Right. Ish.

I pulled out a bottle, unscrewed the top, and started drinking.

I don’t remember stopping.

January 2nd

“MJ, come on, Mom’s giving birth.”

“Can’t she just, like, hold it?” I groaned, turning down the volume on my phone. God, hangovers were the worst.

“MJ!”

“Okay, okay, I’m coming.”

“How much did you drink last night?”

I stopped dead in my tracks. “What?”

“You’re hungover, right? How much did you drink?”

I looked at the bottle sitting on top of my dresser. There was significantly less in it now than when I’d gotten home yesterday.

“It’s not important, Eli. Just, um, tell Charlie and your mom that I’ll be there soon.”

 “See ya, sis.” He hung up.

I rolled out of bed, threw on some clothes, took an ibuprofen, drank some water, dug up my sunglasses, and hit the road.

I had to wait around with Charlie for forever before they let us into the delivery room, but then I walked in and saw Eli holding the baby and Mrs. Jensen drinking some water and smiling at them. Charlie ran in and sat with her mom. Eli came over to me.

“Her name’s Iris Michelle Jensen.”

“Michelle?”

Eli smiled. “Mom said you were the strongest of us, and she wanted to give Iris some of that strength.”

I frowned. “Your mom barely knows me.”

Eli shook his head. “She knows a lot about your childhood, stuff that Dad knew.”

“Oh.”

“Do you wanna hold her?”

“Uh, sure. Babies usually don’t like me.”

“Just try. I can always take her back if she starts fussing.”

He handed off the baby to me, and I cradled her in my arms.

I could see my dad in her. The nose, the eyebrows.

I sat down with her, and kinda just started aimlessly babbling. I realized Eli was filming at some point, and flipped him off.

“Hey, not in front of the baby,” Eli gasped dramatically.

“Elijah, do you remember a single thing from the first two years of your life?” Charlie cut in.

“No, nobody does, but still-”

I stopped paying attention to them. Iris was cooing in my arms, wiggling a little.

“Do you want me to take her back?” Eli asked.

“No, it’s okay, I’ve got her.”

She cooed again, and I found myself smiling, despite the pounding in my head.

“MJ,” Mrs. Jensen said, “can you bring her over here?”

“Of course.”

I stood up and walked over, swaying gently, going off of instinct. I started to hand Mrs. Jensen the baby, but she shook her head.

“Sit down.”

I took a seat next to the bed.

“I must admit, I don’t know everything you’ve been through, I just know what your dad knew,” she said, taking another drink of water. “And I know I haven’t always been very fair to you. I just…you’re a part of this family. It’s a bizarre one, but you are a part of it.”

I smiled. “Thank you.”

“Of course, MJ.”

“Can you- can you promise me one thing?” I asked, glancing at Iris before looking back up at Mrs. Jensen. “No matter how bad things get, don’t let anybody touch her. Ever. I don’t want her to…grow up like that.”

Mrs. Jensen gave me a sad smile. “I’m sorry-”

“Just…promise me you won’t ever let anybody who’d do that to her into your home, okay? Please.”

“I promise. Do you mind if I take her back, now?”

“Yeah, of course.”

I kissed Iris’s forehead, then handed her off to Mrs. Jensen.

Several hours later, Harry, Connor, Peter and I ended up at the diner by the police station, on a double date. Harry and Connor’s hands were clasped on the table as they each picked away at the fries we were all sharing. Peter’s arm was resting on the back of my chair, barely touching me. I guess I’d spooked him yesterday.

“They really named her Iris Michelle?” Connor asked. “That’s cute.”

I smiled. “Yeah, she’s adorable.” I looked at Peter, and he was smiling back at me. I scooted my chair closer to his so I could put my head on his shoulder.

“You look tired, Jones,” Harry helpfully pointed out.

“Yeah, well, I don’t remember most of last night, and today’s been an event and a half.”

Peter’s arm wrapped around my shoulders now, properly, and squeezed. “We can go back to my place and sleep after this.”

“You’re really gonna ask her to sleep with her right now? Right in front of my fries?” Harry said, ever the dramatic one. I laughed. Peter did this adorable, embarrassed chuckle.

“Hazzy,” Connor scolded, but he was smiling too.

“Hazzy? He lets you call him that?” Peter asked, surprised. “Did you punch someone for calling you that when you were at boarding school?”

Harry laughed. “Yeah, Bradley. We were drunk, and I don’t really like being called that.”

Connor frowned. “I can stop.”

Harry shook his head. “It’s kinda cute when you do it.”

Peter and I looked at each other. They were adorable.

I ended up at Peter’s place that night, lying on his bed while he was on the phone with Tony. I could hear snippets of the conversation. It sounded like it was about the suit.

When he was done, he came back into the bedroom from the living room.

“Sorry, Mr. Stark updated the software for my suit, and then Aunt May wanted to say hi – she says hi, by the way – and it was a whole thing.”

“It’s alright. Come lay down.”

I shifted onto my side so I could face him. He laid down beside me, on his side, facing me.

“So, first impressions of Connor?”

“Wow, what am I doing wrong that you’re in my bed, talking about another guy?”

I laughed.

“No, he seems cool. He and Harry are clearly perfect for each other. He and Harry and Ned and I are going to the arcade on Friday to get to know him better.”

“I’m glad. I think you two would get along well.”

“Can we stop talking about other guys now?” Peter whined, putting his hands on my hips and pulling me closer to him. I giggled.

“Sure.”

He kissed me, softly at first, but then it started to escalate. Soon, he was on top of me, hands slipping under my shirt. Even though this was Peter, maybe the person I trusted most with my body in the world, I panicked. I pushed him off, trying not to just shove him, and then sat up and scooted back until my back was against the wall. I ran my hands through my hair.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I don’t- I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“Nothing’s wrong with you, love,” he said softly, scooting closer to me. “You alright with me touching you?”

“Yeah, of course.”

He brushed some hair out of my face, then hugged me tightly, and I started to cry.

It was dumb. It was so dumb. I could fuck him when we weren’t dating, but now that we were again, suddenly I couldn’t? What was wrong with me?

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. Shh, it’s okay.”

January 3rd

I woke up on top of Peter, as per usual. He was still asleep, his arms wrapped loosely around me. I kissed his jawline a couple times, then his cheek, and that’s when he woke up.

“Good morning,” he mumbled, tightening his arms around me.

“Morning, babe.”

“How you feeling?”

“Good.”

“Do you…wanna talk about yesterday evening?” he asked.

I shook my head. “I don’t know what to say,” I said, rolling off of him and sitting up.

He sat up, squeezing his eyes shut then opening them real wide to try to wake himself up.

“I just wanna know if I…did something that made you uncomfortable.”

“No, I’m just…I don’t know. Fucked up.”

“You’re not fucked up, MJ, you’ve been hurt.”

“Yeah, enough to fuck me up.”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair.

Without thinking, I threw a leg over him, so I was straddling him, then kissed him, tangling my fingers in his hair. I felt his hands on my waist, on my back, one on my thigh. It was heated, and god, I wanted him bad.

He pulled away for a second. “Is this okay? Am I…am I crossing any lines, or-or-”

“No, let’s just…keep going, okay?”

“You’re not uncomfortable?”

“No, this is good.”

He pressed his lips to mine again, his hands roaming my body just like before.

I pulled away to kiss his jawline, then down his neck. He tilted his head, giving me more access. His hands slipped up under my shirt, pressed against my back to pull me closer to his body. I could feel him getting excited, too, and I wanted this. _I wanted this._

“Can I, um, take your shirt off?”

“Mhm,” I mumbled, still kissing his neck.

He started to lift it, fingers grazing over my skin, and a jolt of panic shot through me. He must’ve noticed, too, because he immediately stopped and pulled my shirt back down. I dropped my head, my forehead resting against his shoulder. He wrapped his arms around me.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, MJ, it’s okay.”

I started to cry, yet again. “No, it isn’t, you deserve- you deserve someone who can-”

“It’s just sex, MJ, I’ll live.”

“But it’s- it’s not fair.”

“What’s not fair is the shit your mom put you through,” he said, hugging me tighter, his face buried in my hair.

“But-”

“No buts. I love you, MJ.”

“I love you too, Peter.”

**January 4 th **

I texted Peter late at night, asking him how guys night with Connor went. Of course, I was drunk off my ass, so Peter came over. He let himself into the apartment, and came over to the couch, where I was laying, absolutely useless. He lifted my legs and sat down, putting my legs down over his lap.

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

I propped myself up on my elbows. “Dizzy.”

He sighed. “Yeah, makes sense.”

I pointed at the bottle, which was sitting on the coffee table. “You can have some if you want.”

Peter shook his head. “I think you need me to be sober.”

“I need you to be fun, and right now you’re just…sad.”

“I’m not sad, MJ.”

“Then what are you?”

He ran a hand through his hair. “I’m frustrated. And worried.”

I frowned. “What are you worried about?”

“You! I haven’t seen you like this since Cindy was kidnapped.”

Oh, no. He was gonna walk out on me now like he did then. No, no no no no no.

“What?” he asked, his expression going from frustrated to concerned.

“Nothing,” I said, but my voice broke.

“MJ-”

“I said, nothing.” I rolled off the couch to walk into the kitchen, but I could barely stand. Peter stood up and grabbed me before I fell over, and I fell against his chest.

“MJ, I’m trying to help you.”

“Just walk out, Peter. That’s what you did before.” My sight got blurry as tears filled my eyes.

“I promised you I’d never walk out on you again and I meant it, love.”

I pulled myself out of his arms, promptly falling back onto the couch. “You don’t mean it. Nobody ever means it.” I was slurring and my voice had that gross crying quality to it, and I hated it. I hated how I sounded.

But I did this to me. Just like I did everything else to me.

He sat down next to me again, putting a hand on my shoulder. “I know you have no reason to trust me, because I’ve walked out on you so many times, but I promise on my parents’ graves, MJ, I love you.”

And then I was sobbing, hard, uncontrollably. He pulled me into his lap and held me tight, kissing my temple and letting me cry.

I hated it. I kept crying and I didn’t even really know why. This wasn’t me. This wasn’t me at all.

After a while, Peter whispered, “We should get you into bed.”

I didn’t protest. He helped me into the bathroom to wash my face and brush my teeth and all that, helped me change into pajamas, then helped me into bed, cuddling up next to me.

“I’m sorry I’m like this,” I whispered, once we were laying down. I had my head on his shoulder.

“It’s okay. We’ll get through it.”

“No, Peter, you deserve-”

“Don’t say that,” he whispered, and he sounded like he was on the verge of tears. “You’re all I want, okay? I don’t care what you think I deserve, I want you.”

I didn’t say anything back, and then I passed out. I hoped he slept, too.

**January 6 th **

I’d stayed at Peter’s the night before, and this morning I made pancakes, then we sat on the couch watching _Brooklyn Nine-Nine_.

My phone started vibrating on the coffee table. I picked it up.

“Jessie’s calling,” I said, frowning.

“Put it on speaker, I wanna say hi,” Peter said.

I answered and put it on speaker.

“-sick of this! I just want us to stop fighting but you won’t talk to me!”

“That was Ned’s voice,” Peter said softly.

“Maybe I should hang up-”

Peter grabbed the phone.

“You’re exhausting, Ned! Every conversation lately is ‘why won’t you watch Star Wars with me’ or ‘do you even love me’ or whatever. You’ve been so fucking needy!”

“So? Do you even love me?”

There was a pause. That wasn’t good.

“Ned, this is exactly what I mean-”

“It’s a yes or no question, Jessie.”

“Of course I love you, Ned, but I’m not happy anymore, and neither are you!”

“Yeah, I thought you’d at least try to make things better, though!”

“What’s the point in trying?”

“If you don’t wanna try, then…”

“Then we’re done here. Easy as that.”

“Jessie-”

“I’m going home.”

I grabbed the phone back from Peter and hung up. The room was silent for a while.

“Wow,” I whispered.

“Wow,” Peter echoed.

“I should text Jessie and make sure she’s okay.”

“Yeah, I should probably text Ned.”

I texted Jessie, and told her I’d come over with ice cream to cheer her up.

“Alright, babe, I gotta go hang out with Jess.”

I kissed him, then stood up and went to his room to get my stuff.

“I’ll text you when I get home,” I called from his room.

“Yeah, sounds good.”

He met me at the door before I headed out, kissing me again.

“Text me when you get there, too, okay? And let me know how it goes.”

“Yeah, let me know how it goes with Ned, too.”

“Look at us,” he said with a smile, “taking care of our friends like a team.”

“Peter, between this and being Iron Man’s sidekick, this is definitely your lamest team.”

“Okay, but it’s got the prettiest member.”

I rolled my eyes, despite smiling. “You’re cheesy.”

“Yeah, I feel bad for the sucker stuck in a relationship with me.”

I laughed, kissing his cheek and opening the door. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

I gave him one last smile, then headed over to Jessie’s, hitting a 7/11 on the way to pick up some Ben & Jerry’s.

I knocked on her door, and when she opened it, there were streaks of mascara down her face, and her bottom lip was quivering.

“Hey, I got you some Half-Baked-”

She hugged me really suddenly, and it knocked the breath out of me, and then she was crying into my shoulder and I could feel her whole body shaking. I wrapped my arms around her as tight as possible.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled, still crying. “I just-”

“It’s okay. You loved him, I know how you feel.”

She didn’t let go for a few more moments, but then she did kind of suddenly and pulled me into the apartment.

“Sorry. I’m kind of…all over the place.”

“It’s okay. Do you wanna talk about it?”

“Yeah, um, just…lemme get spoons and stuff for us.”

 I followed her into the kitchen, then into her bedroom, and once we were sitting down, she started to cry again.

“I- I know this is gonna sounds stupid, because it’s…it’s my fault that it didn’t work out but…I wouldn’t talk to him because I could- I could feel it change between us, you know?”

“Yeah, I know.”

“And it sucks, because I know I could’ve tried harder and maybe it would’ve lasted but…it’s high school, right? And I know we were never gonna last forever or get married or anything…”

“But it hurts to let go.”

“Yeah.”

She dug her spoon into her ice cream and took a bite, tears still streaming down her face.

It was weird. I remembered the day she and Ned got together, and how happy they both were. I remember her and I going and getting slushies after the first time she and Ned had sex, and giggling over the details. I remembered hearing the details of their first kiss, first “I love you”s. She and Ned had gotten together before Peter and I had, and they’d lasted, unwavering, for six months.

And now it was gone.

“This is gonna sound like such bullshit, but, I mean, this just puts you that much closer to happiness, okay? If you and Ned weren’t happy, this is the best thing you could’ve done. And it doesn’t mean you’ll never speak again or never be friends again or never get together again, but for now this is the best thing for both of you.”

She nodded, sniffling.

“Hey, I want you to be happy, okay? Both of you. And I hate seeing this happen to you guys but…whatever it takes, right?”

“Right.”

I stayed there all day with her. We ate plenty of junk food, watched a ton of Netflix, and I let her talk or cry, whatever she needed. There were times she was completely silent and stone-faced, and times she cried and tried to speak through the sobs. But I stayed the whole day.

January 8th

So. We went back to school on the 7th, and it was exhausting and stressful, and since I didn’t have any actual coping mechanisms, guess what happened?

If you guessed “vodka”, you’re right.

Harry: MJ

Me: Yeahhh??

Harry: HELP

Me: Wirh what?

Harry: CONNOR

Me: WhT about conmor you gisy are perrfucctttt

Me: soirry lol I’m a it drubk

Harry: I am confused. We’ll be making out and he’ll be all over me but nothing sexual has happened

Me: isk man pwter and I have been baxk togethwr for ancouple weeks and we hsvent done anythimf

Me: Just like. Give himntime maybw??

Harry: Wait you and peter haven’t done it? You guys were literally fuck buddies at a point

Me: haha yeahhhhhh

Me: iak I don’t think I can axtually attack emotinfs to sex anymore wjooops

Me: anytimw we’ve come cpose I just start crying anf I feel bad

Me: bUT BASK TO CONNOE

Harry: Okay

Me: srent tou handing out rn

Harry: Yes

Me: Judt ask him

Me: Hopwfully his anxiwer isn’t alonf t he lines of “i waz druggrd n raprp a few months ago”

Harry: I barely had the balls to ask this fucker out and you want me to ask him about sex. You know what I hate that this is so difficult because I want him but I’m nervous.

Harry: I’m just gonna do it

Me: Yeewwwt enjoyyyyyy

Harry: I’m nervous but I’ll try my best

Me: I’ll prsy to the bone gods thst you get some sopn

Harry: Thanks I guess??

Me: no preb dufe love you

Harry: Love you too

MJ: awwwwww im all warn n fuxzy

Harry: Shut it jones

Me: makr me osburn

Harry: Nah that’s Peter’s job

Me: damn sis oksy

Me: go cusdle hour boyf I’ll cri myself to slep good talk lov you goodnight

January 9th

Me: Hey dude did you talk to Connor?

Harry: Totally

Me: So that’s a no

Harry: Yep exactly

Me: Geez Harry

Me: You’re not gonna get any that way

Harry: Well I mean yeah but we did end up making out so I’m okay with it

Me: As long as you’re both happy dude

Harry: Yep

Me: You should probably talk to him about this at some point tho

Harry: Yeah probably

Harry: And you should talk to Peter

Me: Mmm how about no

Harry: C’mon Mj you should

Me: What do I even say?

Me: “Hey babe you know I love you and want to have sex with you but this is the first time there’s been any emotional commitment attached to sex since the Brandon thing and for some reason that freaks me out”??

Harry: Yes?

Me: What no I can’t say that??

Me: Have you met Peter??

Harry: Yes we’ve been friends since we were like 6

Harry: And why can’t you?

Me: Then you’re aware that he’ll get all riled up about Brandon again and go after him. Again.

Me: I’m not letting peter risk his safety bc I’m still being a baby about something that happened almost three months ago

Harry: Mj you’re not being a baby what happened is not something you just get over. Its serious and scarring and awful.

Me: Well it’d be a lot easier if I could just get over it so I don’t cry every time things get spicy with peter

Harry: I get that but that’s not necessarily how things work

Me: It’d just be a lot more convenient if this whole thing would just go away and I could be normal and not just everyone’s pity friend

Harry: Well you’re not wrong but its not just gonna go away

Me: Well until it does

Me: You can find me by the liquor cabinet

Harry: Mj that’s not a healthy coping mechanism

Me: Hey I don’t need healthy I just need coping

Harry: yea you do

Me: I don’t know what else to do

Me: I can’t talk to my dad because he’s dead

Me: I can’t talk to my mom bc she let it happen

Me: I can’t talk to peter bc he’ll go ballistic

Me: Same with Miles

Me: I can’t focus on my art as much anymore bc all of my ideas lately have been super dark and the last thing I need is my art teacher forcing me to see a counsellor

Harry: Talk to me Mj I’m always here you’ve been here for me I’ll be here for you

Me: It’s not even that

Me: I don’t know what to say

Me: I don’t know what to say that could possibly make you understand and I don’t even know if I want you to be able to understand how it feels because it feels awful and terrible and I wish it just didn’t happen ever

Harry: Yeah I understand

Me: What??

Me: You do??

Harry: Have you thought about like seeing a counsellor??

Me: I honestly don’t know what there is to talk about. And then it’s gonna be this whole thing where they make me dig up childhood trauma and blah blah blah and idk it scares me I don’t need to relive that stuff yknow?

Me: Also you’re just…not gonna answer my questions from earlier?

Harry: Well yeah I know but sometimes it helps

Me: Harry when have you ever spoken about your problems?

Me: Your dad almost went to jail and you kinda just hung out with peter and I for a couple days and then went home and that was pretty much it

Harry: Yeah

Me: And you’re still avoiding telling me why you understand what I’m going through

Me: Which is fine, it’s understandable, I don’t like talking about it. But it’s a little hypocritical

Harry: What are you talking about I’m not avoiding anything except for talking about sex with Connor

Me: Harry

Me: I’m not gonna make you admit it

Me: But your dad, the man who kidnapped, raped, and experimented on Cindy, being slightly abusive towards his son? That’s not a wild concept. So if you ever wanna talk about it, you know I’ll understand, but I won’t make you

Harry: Mj I have no clue what you’re talking about. There’s nothing to talk about because there’s nothing happening. On a completely unrelated note, Connor is adorable

Me: You gonna talk to him?

Harry: I’m gonna try

Me: I should probably talk to Peter too, shouldn’t I?

Harry: Yeah you should

Me: You first

Me: I’ll have to figure out a way to stop Peter from doing something stupid

Harry: Fine once I do it you have to

Me: Sure

Me: Just tell me when dude

Harry: Will do

Well, now I was stressed about it.

I ended up five drinks deep before I went to bed. I was gonna have to get a handle on this at some point, or I’d end up with acute liver failure, but for now it felt like my only option.

**January 10 th **

Peter came over to watch the Brooklyn Nine-Nine season six premiere with me, so I figured now was my shot to talk to him. Harry and Connor had talked, so now it was my turn. I’d promised Harry.

He busted in five minutes before the episode started, carrying a two-litre of Coke, a pizza, and a bunch of microwave popcorn.

“I’m ready!”

I laughed, grabbing a package of popcorn off the top of the pizza box and heading into the kitchen. He turned on the TV and found the channel, then helped me get plates and glasses and stuff.

Watching the episode was nice. Peter and I had an excuse to cuddle up on the couch together and eat junk food. I couldn’t fully relax and enjoy the episode, because I knew I’d have to talk to him about everything afterwards, but it was still nice. I could focus on his arm around my shoulder, holding me against his body, and his cute laugh at all the jokes, and the way he kissed my temple when it went to commercial.

But then the episode was over, and we were cleaning up the living room, and I knew I had to talk to him. How do you even bring that up? How did I make sure he didn’t go batshit and try to hurt Brandon again?

“Peter?” I said, as we finished putting dishes in the dishwasher. “Can I…talk to you about something?”

“Yeah, of course, MJ, always.”

“I just…I need you to promise me something first.”

He frowned. “Okay…”

“Promise you won’t try to hurt anyone or do anything stupid?”

He looked at me, eyebrows still furrowed, then pulled up his sleeves and took his web shooters off his wrists.

“You had those on the whole time?”

Peter shrugged. “I usually do. Here.” He took my hand and placed them in my palm. I stared at them, dumbfounded. “What did you want to talk about?”

I blinked a few times, then put the web shooters in my pocket and hopped up onto the kitchen counter. “Um, I- listen, it’s- I- I don’t-” I laughed, nervous. “I don’t know how-”

Peter came and stood in front of me. “Is this about the, um, sex thing?”

I dropped my head forward, laughing nervously again. “Yeah. I-I-shit. I-I’m sorry-”

“You’ve apologized enough, MJ. If you don’t wanna do it, then-”

“No, that’s the problem, is that I do, but I-I keep- I don’t know- I just- I can’t-”

Peter laughed, and I stopped cold, and then he immediately looked guilty. “Sorry, no, I’m not- I’m not laughing at you. You just…you sound like _me_ right now. It’s weird.”

I stared at him. “You’re not making this easier.”

“Sorry, sorry.” He hopped up on the counter next to me and put an arm around me, kissing my temple. “Go ahead.”

“I- okay. I want to, you know, do the do, but I-I don’t know. Before it was…easy, you know? Like it made me feel better and it got me out of my head and I felt…in control, I guess. And now-”

“Now it’s more than that, because we’re together.”

“Exactly. And I feel bad, because I had no problem with it before we broke up, so it’s-it’s-”

“Is it…because of what happened with Brandon?” Peter asked, his voice soft and fragile-sounding.

I sighed, letting my head fall to the side, onto his shoulder. “Yeah.”

He tightened his arm around me, rubbing his hand up and down my arm. “So…what do you wanna do?”

“I don’t know. Sometimes it feels like this is just…life. This is just how it’s gonna be, forever, and it’s-it’s never gonna feel okay again.”

“Hey, that’s not true. It’s gonna be okay, I promise.”

“Peter-”

“No, it’s going to be okay. When, um, when Uncle Ben died, I remember thinking I’d never be happy again, but…look at me now. I’ve got you, and we’ve got some pretty awesome friends, and there’s the whole Mr. Stark and May thing…you’ll get there, it just takes time. I-I know it’s not the same, but it’s-it’s the same concept.”

I took a deep, shaky breath. “I just- sorry, I’m kind of- I don’t want you to think it’s because of you.”

“Okay. I can understand that. Is there…anyway I can help?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t know what helps in a situation like this.”

Peter took a breath in. “I know you’re not super open to the idea, but I think-”

“Don’t tell me to go to a counsellor.”

“MJ, I think it could help.”

I pulled away from him, jumping off the counter. “I don’t- Peter, the last thing I need right now is some counsellor deeming me a threat to myself and calling my mom, because you know where that’s gonna land me?”

Peter scratched the back of his neck. “I-I don’t know. Psych ward?”

“Cemetery. She’d kill me if she got a call like that.”

Peter stared at me. “Are you- are you that scared of her?”

“She let Brandon-”

“I know, I know, but I- I didn’t think she’d ever…”

“She hasn’t. Yet. But I wouldn’t be surprised if she finds some shitbag to bring around and do the dirty work for her.”

Peter got off the counter and came over to me. “I’m- I know this means nothing, but I’m sorry.”

“It’ll be okay. I’ll work something out.”

“Come here.” He kissed my forehead then pulled me into a hug. “You know if anything happens-”

“I know where you live, yes,” I mumbled into his shirt, tightening my arms around him. “Thanks for, y’know, for listening and not getting all angry or anything.” I pulled away a little, taking the web shooters out of my sweater pocket. “Do you want these back?”

“I gave them to you so you’d know I’m not gonna do what I did last time.”

“What, web Brandon to the side of the building and call him a-a…”

“Yeah. That. Keep ‘em.”

“Peter, you’re Spider-Man, you can’t just…give me your web shooters. These are important.”

“So are you.”

I sighed. He had his arms wrapped around my midsection, holding me close. He had this cute little smile on his face, almost smug. “You’re impossible. Take the fucking web shooters.”

“What if I took you out swinging?”

I tilted my head and stared at him, watching the realization dawn on him.

“No, that’s not what I meant-”

I laughed, and then he laughed.

“I’m serious,” he said, trying to stop laughing, which only made me laugh harder. “MJ, MJ, I’m trying to- stop laughing!”

I pressed my lips together and forced myself to stop laughing. “I’m sorry. Go on.”

“Well, now I don’t wanna,” he said, pouting and looking away.

I used a couple of fingers to turn his face towards me so I could kiss him. When I pulled away, I said, “Okay, now will you finish tell me about your swinging proposition?”

He laughed again. “I’m just saying that it’d be fun! Just, like, wrap a scarf over your face, or-or I can ask Dad to make you a mask like mine-”

“Dad?”

Peter’s eyes went wide. “Mr. Stark.”

I gave him my best Holt impression. “Do you see him as a father figure, Parker?”

He scoffed. “No, if anything I see him as a bother figure, because he’s always bothering me.”

We both laughed.

And then the door opened.

“Michelle. Peter,” my mom said, by way of greeting. She stood in front of us, arms crossed. We both dropped our arms and stepped apart.

“Ahem, Ms. Jones,” Peter coughed.

“Don’t let me stop you kids from having _fun_.” She raised an eyebrow at me, gestured to the cupboard she kept condoms in, and then sat down on the couch, turning on the TV.

“Here, um, let’s just…let’s just talk in my room.” I pulled him into my room, slamming the door shut behind us and leaning against it.

He seemed to realize I was panicking before I did. Before I knew it, he had his hands on my shoulders and he was squeezing.

“Peter, I’m fine.”

“You’re starting to hyperventilate and you’re shaking.”

I look at my hand. It was vibrating like a phone when a group chat’s just started.

“Okay, remember the thing I did with you last time?”

“Not right now, no,” I breathed.

“Five things you can see.”

I looked around, but then I was overwhelmed and had to close my eyes. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

“MJ,” he said, squeezing my shoulders.

It felt like my throat was closing up.

“Breathe, love, breathe.”

“I-I can’t.” I grabbed the front of his shirt and balled the fabric up in my fists, trying desperately to get a grip.

“Focus on my hands.”

I balled up my fists tighter. It felt like my lungs were collapsing, my chest hurt so bad. I was pulling Peter towards me, on pure instinct.

He was safe. He was safe. Even if my mom wasn’t, he was safe.

He started to pull away, and I panicked again.

“Peter- Peter, you- I need you.”

He stopped moving away and looked at me. I was breathing hard, trying desperately to catch my breath, and the way he was looking at me wasn’t making this easier.

He shook his head, looking down at the ground. “MJ, you don’t mean that, you’re just panicking.”

I laughed, and it hurt. “Really, Peter? Look what- look what happened when we- when we broke up, I- everything fell apart, and now I’m still falling apart and-”

“You’re not falling apart, MJ, and our breakup isn’t why-why any of this happened to you, and I can’t fix any of it or change the past-”

“Peter- no- listen to me.”

My hands were starting to cramp and I was getting dizzy from the lack of air. He was giving me this look that I couldn’t read, maybe because of the slight hypoxia.

“Okay. I’m listening.”

“I-I-I can’t- I- Peter, I just…You and-and Miles are the only people who-who make me feel safe and I…I’m losing him. He’s lost in Cindy-land and all I have is you and the-the stupid fucking _vodka_ in my dresser.”

He squeezed my shoulders again. “I need you, too, MJ. You-you make me happy.”

“This is what- I-”

“Yes, MJ, you make me happy!” He raised his voice, and instinctually, I jumped back, hitting my head against the door.

“Shit.”

“I’m sorry. MJ, I’m-”

I dropped my head and my hands and just slid down until I was sitting against the door. I could feel that pre-cry sting in my nose, the pressure behind my eyes, the lump in my throat. I didn’t want to cry. Fuck, I didn’t want to cry.

Peter kneeled in front of me and brushed some hair out of my face. “You make me really happy, okay? You’re so smart and creative and…everything about you is amazing. And, I don’t know, I feel so comfortable around you. It’s easy. Like, I-I wanna be good enough for you, and I’m always worried that I’m not, because you could do so much better, so I’ll be with May stressing about planning a date, or-or- but then I’m with you and I’ll say something stupid and you’ll laugh and that makes it all…easy again. And all I wanna do is protect you and stop everything from hurting you, but I can’t, and I’m sorry, because I want to make you happy the same way you- you make me happy.”

At some point during his whole speech, I’d stopped hyperventilating. And shaking. I guess I needed to focus more on him talking and less on his hands on my shoulders.

He put his hands on either side of my head and kissed my forehead. I looked up at him.

“See? I need you.”

The corner’s of his lips twitched a bit. “God, you’re impossible.”

“Yeah, but you need me, too, which means you need a little impossible.”

I grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and kissed him, earning a surprised, muffled noise out of him before he kissed me back. Soft and slow. True Peter fashion.

“Do you want to stay the night with me?” Peter asked, pulling away. “Bring Murphy over, cuddle all night, carpool to school?”

“Yeah. Yeah, that sounds good.”

He smiled, kissing me again before standing up and helping me to my feet.

“Let’s go, then.”

We tracked down Murphy, I grabbed a change of clothes and my backpack, and we went downstairs to Peter’s car.

May was sitting at the kitchen table when we got in. I put Murphy down and he immediately chased down Thwip and the two of them started playing.

“Hey, it’s late, I thought you two would be staying at MJ’s.”

“Oh, um, its’s-”

“May,” Peter interrupted, squeezing my hand, “is it alright if she stays here tonight?”

“Yeah, yeah. Of course, Pete. Is everything okay, MJ?”

I nodded. “Yeah. It’s fine.”

She smiled. “Okay. Have a good night.”

Peter and I went and got ready for bed, sat on his bedroom floor with the dogs for a while, and then we got into bed.

For the first time since we’d gotten back together, I didn’t feel like I was letting him down, or less than, or anything like that. I felt like me, which was weird, because I hadn’t felt like me for a very, very long time. And it wasn’t like everything was fixed, I still desperately missed my dad and felt like shit because of Brandon and everything felt like it was falling apart around me. But I was me.

I kissed his cheek and then rolled over, towards the wall, curling up. He turned onto his side, and I felt his arm fall over my waist and his lips press gently against my shoulder.

I fell asleep smiling, rather than crying.


	2. annoyance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey kids. small warning for some (very mild) suicidal/self destructive thoughts in this chapter. also there's a piece of artwork described relating to sexual assault but it's pretty non-graphic.   
> song for this chapter is Wonder by Phebe Starr :)

**January 11 th **

“Harry?” I said, lifting my phone to my ear. My voice sounded groggy, and I hated it. I could hear cars whizzing past him. Where was he?

“Can- can you come get me?”

“Uh, sure, drop me your location.”

“Thank you so much, MJ, you’re an angel.”

He hung up. A few seconds later, I got a message with a location. He was on the side of the freeway. Why was he on the side of the freeway?

Peter groaned, tightening his arms around me. We had been taking a post-school nap together, and now that was interrupted.

“What was that about?”

“Harry needs a ride,” I said, rubbing my eyes. They were kinda dry and it was annoying me.

“Call Connor for him,” Peter mumbled, pulling me against him.

“I’ll be back before you know it. Promise.”

I wiggled out of his grasp, planting a kiss on top of his curls. “I love you.”

“Love you, too. I’ll be waiting.”

I grabbed a sweater and my keys. I was hoping for a lowkey Friday evening, but Harry was definitely at the top of my priorities right now.

When I got to him, he looked pretty beat up. I pulled over, onto the shoulder of the freeway, and got out of the car.

“Hey.”

His skateboard was broken in two, sitting next to him.

“Hi.”

“No offence, Harry, but you look like shit. What happened?”

“I don’t wanna talk about it, Jones,” he said, grabbing the pieces of his board and standing up. I blocked him.

“You’re not getting in the car until you tell me what’s up.”

“MJ, I’m not in the mood-”

“Osborn, look at me. You look like hell. Until I know why, we’re not moving.”

He sighed, looking away for a second. “Fine. My dad and I were in the car, and he was calling me a disgrace to the family because I refused to go to England for the second semester, and then he pulled over and told me to get out, and tossed my skateboard out, and then hit me a few times and drove over my board as he left. Happy?”

“Yeah. Get in, dude.”

We got into the car. I let him pick the music.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about my dad before,” Harry said softly.

“Don’t be. I knew, anyways.”

“I know.”

It was silent, save for the quiet music.

“Where are we going? That was our exit.”

“We’re getting you ice cream.”

“MJ-”

“Nope. Ice cream. I’m prescribing it.”

“Jones-”

“It’s not up for debate.”

I took the second exit, and we ended up in a McDonald’s, each with a vanilla cone. I tried not to stare at him, but it was hard. His face was bruised and starting to swell. His arms were bruised, too, but I didn’t ask about that.

“You should, um, ice those bruises. It’ll help.”

Harry glared at me. “What do you want me to do, smash my cone into my eye?”

I laughed. “No. Here.”

I got up and went to the counter.

“Hey, my friend over there has a couple of nasty bruises, would I be able to get a bag of ice or something for him?”

The lady raised an eyebrow at me. “There’s a grocery store right there, why don’t you buy a bag of frozen peas or something?”

I bristled. “Listen, just give me a cup so I can fill it with ice.”

She rolled her eyes, but handed me a small cup.

“And shove your attitude up your ass, lady,” I added, taking it and walking away. I heard her huff, annoyed, but didn’t pay attention. I filled the cup with ice at the soda fountain, then sat down with Harry again.

“She seemed like a fun gal,” Harry quipped, a glimpse of his normal self peeking through his grim attitude.

“Oh, yeah. Lovely. Life of the party.”

He snorted, holding the cup to his cheekbone. “I feel like an idiot.”

“Now you know what it’s like to date Peter.”

He laughed. “Please, he’s the idiot between you two.”

I shrugged. “Fair enough.”

We finished our cones, and then cleaned up.

“Here, I’ll drive you home,” I said.

“No!” Harry said, too fast. He seemed to realize what he’d done. “Just-just drop me off at Connor’s. Please.”

“Okay.”

I drove him to Connor’s, told Connor to give him some extra cuddles tonight, and then went back to Peter’s.

He was at his laptop now, looking through local news articles.

I pouted, standing in his doorway. “Did I miss my chance for cuddles?”

Peter startled at my voice, surprised to see me. “Hi. Sorry. I was just, you know, checking for crime.”

I came into the room and stood behind him, leaning forward and wrapping my arms around him, kissing his temple. “Don’t let me interrupt.”

He leaned back in his chair, tilting his head back until it fell against my shoulder. “Why is there never any petty crime when I’m free? They always rob a bank the night before a big test, but never on a Friday night when I’m sitting at home, twiddling my thumbs.”

I laughed. “It’s New York, babe, you’re just not looking hard enough.”

“What took you so long?” he asked. “I figured you’d be, like, an hour, tops.”

“Harry needed a morale boost, so we got McDonald’s ice cream.”

“Is he okay?”

“He will be. He’s a resilient guy.”

Peter reached up and started twirling a lock of my hair around his finger. “So…I have a proposal.”

“Go for it.”

“Do you wanna go out swinging tonight? I, uh, have a mask that May helped me make for you.”

“You do?”

“Yeah, here, I’ll show you.”

He leaned forward, so I let go of him, keeping a hand on his shoulder. He opened a drawer and pulled out a red piece of fabric, handing it to me. I unfolded it. It was like a surgical mask, but made of red cotton, with a tiny spider insignia by the right ear. I smiled.

“This is really cool, Peter.”

“You like it?” he asked, turning in his chair to face me, eyes wide.

“I love it,” I assured him, kissing him. I took a step back and put it on, tucking the straps behind my ears and adjusting it over my nose. “How do I look?”

Peter broke out in a grin. “You look badass.”

“Okay then. Let’s go.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, dude. I’m excited. Kind of scared, you know, but excited.”

He got up and started running around the room. He pulled a hoodie deep out of the depths of his closet. The old Spider-Man suit. Before Tony upgraded him. He tossed it my way.

“Put that on.”

I took of my sweater and put on the hoodie, zipping it up and putting the hood on.

Yeah, I felt kinda badass.

He got undressed and then put on the suit.

“Oh, shit, you need shooters.”

“Wha- I-”

He dug two bracelets up, like the ones he wore that expanded into the shooters.

“Peter, I don’t know how to-”

“I’ll show you, love. Here, put these on.”

He helped me click the bracelets onto each wrist, and then hit a little red button that expanded them out. It was weird, and I was worried they’d pinch my skin, but they didn’t.

“Okay, now you need a few cartridges.”

He pulled a few bottles of web fluid out of a drawer in his desk, and put one in each web shooter.

“Do you wanna keep them, or should I keep them on me?”

“I, um, I’m scared I’ll lose them, to be honest.”

“Alright, I’ve got it, then.”

It was cool seeing him like this. This was something he was good at, comfortable with. You could tell by the way he was holding himself, his tone of voice, all of it. Normally, no matter what, Peter was always at least a little anxious. If we were in chemistry, he’d triple-check everything. If we were driving, he’d shoulder check twice. Right now, he was so sure of himself. He knew exactly what he was doing.

“What? You’re starting at me.”

“Nothing.”

“MJ,” he said, sighing.

I smiled. “It’s just…I’ve never seen you like this.”

“Like what?”

“You’re…confident. In your element. I was pretty sure you didn’t have an element.”

“Gee, thanks, babe.”

“You’re just…always worrying. It’s nice to see you relaxed.”

“You think I don’t worry about this stuff?”

“Well, of course you do, but it’s like driving, right? You know it’s dangerous, you know what can go wrong, but eventually you relax behind the wheel. You know what you’re doing.”

He smiled. “Yeah, I guess. It’s kind of become second nature.”

“Exactly. I hope you’re ready to have to spell everything out for me, though.”

“Oh, right, here.”

He came over and took my hand, lifting it, palm up, and facing it at the wall.

“Okay, you know the-the hand thing, right? Index and pinkie out, middle and ring to palm.”

I bent my middle and ring fingers towards my palm, a little too nervous to hit the button.

“Okay, so, hit once to shoot, double tap to disconnect. Got it?”

I hit it once, sending a string of web out and hitting the wall, and then double tapped to let the string go. It fell, slowly, like actual spider webbing.

“Good. Double tap to just, like, send out a blob.”

“Like this?” I hit the button twice, sending a mass of web at the wall.

“Exactly.”

“That’s how you pin guys to walls. I’ve been wondering.”

Peter smiled a little. “It feels kinda cool, right?”

“It feels really powerful.”

He laughed. “Yeah, that too.” He grabbed his mask off of his desk. “You ready to go?”

“Wait.” I pulled my mask down, under my chin, and kissed him. “Now I’m ready.”

He smiled, like the adorable dork he was, then pulled his mask on. I pulled my own mask up over my face again.

Then we climbed out his window onto the fire escape.

“You ready?”

“No, I’m terrified. Shooting at a wall is very different from swinging from this height.”

He laughed, putting his arm around me. “Hold on, then.”

“Peter. Peter!”

He shot at a building, and off we went. I wrapped my arms tight around him, holding my breath.

There was a brief moment, when he disconnected from one web and shot another, where we were free-falling. It was terrifying, but it also felt kind of awesome.

“Okay, okay, I wanna try.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, you’ll catch me if I fuck up, right?”

“Of course.”

We stopped on the roof of a building and caught our breath. Then, I summoned all the courage in my body, and jumped.

I screamed. Not the oh-my-god-I’m-gonna-die type of scream, but the I’m-at-the-top-of-a-rollercoaster-that-loops-eight-times type of scream.

I shot a web, and swung, easily. It wasn’t as hard as I’d thought it’d be. The hard part was not looking down.

I forgot that the web was attached to a building, though. A brick one. I realized a little too late, and held out my free arm, absorbing the brunt of the impact before the rest of my body hit it.

I could hear Peter laughing from three buildings over.

His laughter got closer and closer, until it was coming from on top of the building.

“You need a hand?”

“I’m doing just fine, babe.”

He laughed again.

“Shut up!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Lemme help you.”

“Fine.”

He grabbed the web I’d shot and started pulling, pulling me up with it, until I could reach the edge of the building and pull myself up.

“Did you get a little cocky there, love?”

“Shut up.”

“Oh, come on, that was funny.”

I put a hand in the middle of his chest and shoved. “Jerkwad.”

“Hey, you’re the one who shoved me. That’s domestic abuse,” he said, crossing his arms.

“Oh, fuck off.”

The eyes on his suit squinted as he laughed. “Come here, Spider-Girl.” He pulled me in by the waist, holding me close.

“Oh, so you’re Spider-Man, but I’m not Spider-Woman? I’m Spider-Girl? Doesn’t that seem a little sexist to you?” I teased.

“It’s just more syllables, geez-”

“You could be Spider-Boy,” I argued.

He sighed, dropping his head forward onto my shoulder, suit-eyes closing. “You’re impossible.”

“We’ve been over this. You need a little impossible.”

“Do you wanna give it a couple more tries?”

“Sure.”

So I did. And I got the hang of it pretty quickly. It was cool. I got to swing around New York with my boyfriend. Not the worst Friday night in history.

He did, sort of suddenly, grab me midair, and pull me to a rooftop.

“Hey-!”

“There’s a mugging going down in that alley. Stay here, I’ll be right back.”

And then he was off. I watched him swing between two buildings and disappear from sight.

“Oh, MJ, this is a bad idea,” I said to myself, aiming for a tall building and shooting. “He’s gonna yell at you.”

Of course, I never listen to my own advice, so I jumped, swinging myself onto the roof of the closer of the two buildings, and heading over to the edge so I could look down and watch what was happening.

He had webbed two guys to walls and was handing a purse to a girl who had to be our age. She seemed to be crying. He put a hand on her shoulder and talked to her, then walked her out of the alley to a gas station across the street. She went into the convenience store attached, and then Peter swung up to the building where he left me.

Shit. Right.

“Spidey!” I shouted. His head snapped towards me, and then he was landing in front of me in the blink of an eye.

“What are you doing? I told you not to move. What if you’d fallen or something?”

“Peter- Peter, I’m fine-”

“No, MJ, you’ve been doing this for one evening. One! You can’t just disappear like that!”

“I didn’t disappear, I was right here-”

“You swung across the street on your own after I told you not to move.”

“I didn’t agree not to move,” I countered.

“Because it wasn’t a request!” he snapped.

I took a step back, and he seemed to realize what he’d done.

“MJ-”

“No, let’s just drop this. You told me not to move, I moved, whatever, it’s over.”

I jumped off the building and started swinging back to his apartment. He followed close behind. He could’ve overtaken me, I was fully aware that I was going slower than he usually did, but I think he sense my annoyance at him and decided he was better off going slow.

I was out of breath when I landed on Peter’s fire escape. He landed right after me, his hand falling on my lower back. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” It came out a little harsher than I meant for it to, and he took his hand away.

“Alright. Sorry.”

I climbed in and immediately took off the mask. I wanted to toss it on his desk or something, so he knew I was annoyed, but it was a cute gesture that he’d even made it, and I knew it’d hurt his feelings if I did. I folded it up and tucked it in the back pocket of my jeans instead.

I turned in time to watch Peter pull the mask off, his curls falling down over his forehead when he did.

It was pretty hard to stay mad at him when he was that adorable.

“I’m sorry I’m being kind of a bitch. Thanks for taking me out,” I said.

He smiled, the right corner of his mouth lifting a second before the left. “Yeah, of course, MJ. It’s, um, getting late, do you wanna just get ready for bed?”

“Yeah, sounds good.”

I took off the hoodie and handed it back to him, then went to his closet to pick out a different sweater to wear to bed.

“I’m glad you make yourself so at home here,” Peter laughed, kicking the baggy suit off.

I picked an orange sweater out of his collection and tossed it on the top bunk. Peter came over and put his hands on my waist.

“I, um, really liked having you out there with me. You know, not for crime-fighting reasons, but, just, for fun. It was nice.”

It bothered me that he didn’t consider me capable of the crime-fighting stuff. Was I powered? No. But I knew how to shoot a gun, and I was a lot more ruthless than he was.

Maybe I was just being delusional.

“Yeah, it was nice.”

He kissed me, softly, just a peck. “Let’s get to sleep. You’re probably pretty tired out from that whole thing.”

He let go of me and went into the bathroom.

Again, it rubbed me the wrong way. I had to be the one who was tuckered out. What, was he gonna tuck me in, too?

I shook it off. I was being irrational.

I got ready for bed, taking off my jeans and shirt and replacing them with Peter’s sweater. After he came out of the bathroom, I went in, brushed my teeth and washed my face and the whole nine yards. When I came out, he’d put the suit and the web shooters and everything, away, and he was pulling on a pair of sweatpants.

I laid down on the bottom bunk, rolling over so I was on my side, against the wall. Peter got in after me, pulling the blankets up over us.

“Everything okay? You’re kinda quiet.”

“Yeah. Just tired, I guess.”

“Okay. Goodnight.”

He wrapped his arms around me, kissing my shoulder and then burying his face in my neck. He fell asleep really quickly.

I couldn’t sleep.

_“Because it wasn’t a request!”_

_“-not for crime-fighting reasons-”_

_“You’re probably pretty tired out from that whole thing.”_

I forced it down, closing my eyes. It was petty and stupid to be mad about that stuff.

I didn’t sleep much that night.

**January 12 th **

Saturday was date night, so despite the fact that I was still kind of annoyed when I woke up, I committed. And we had a nice day. I made pancakes, so he and May and I all had breakfast together that morning. Then he and I sat on the couch, me half on top of him, while we both just fucked around on our phones for a while. We went out for lunch, to this sushi place by the school. Neither of us had any ideas for the actual date we were supposed to go on.

I tried not to let it show that I was still cheesed at him. It was stupid anyways. Who gets mad about a couple of stupid, well-meaning comments, and _stays_ mad? I was so confused, I even checked my calendar to make sure I wasn’t PMS-ing.

We ended up at the mall, late in the afternoon, because surely there was something to do here. We wandered around, poking our heads in high-end stores to make fun of the prices (“Seriously, who pays four hundred dollars for a wallet? I’d rather have four hundred bucks in my wallet to feed my chicken nugget addiction.”), wandering through the food court (“Mexican-Ukrainian fusion should not be a thing.”), and flipping coins into water fountains and wishing for dumb things (“I wish for unlimited cheesecake.”). Maybe it was just because I was mad at him, but I wasn’t having fun. Normally, I’d be so caught up in laughing, or admiring him, that no matter what I’d be having fun. But today everything felt…kinda dulled down. Like someone had buffed the varnish off of things.

Whatever. I’d get over it and things would go back to normal.

“Ooh, can we go into the pet store and look at bunnies?” Peter asked, his voice pitching up as he got excited.

“Sure.”

He grabbed my hand and pulled me along, all the way to the entrance of the store. He immediately stopped to look at a snake, all coiled up in its cage.

“Can you imagine having one of these as a pet, and just letting it slither all over your place? Like what if one day you go to open the fridge and it’s got itself wrapped around the handle and you accidentally hurt it? Or it coils up in your shoe and you step on it?”

I put a hand on his shoulder. “Dude, I can _see_ your blood pressure climbing.”

He laughed, stepping away from the cage and running his hand through his hair.

“Come on, let’s go look at the fish.”

There was an aisle that was just aquariums full of fish. Big ones. Little ones. Colourful ones.

Peter was his normal self, going up to every tank, all wide-eyed, like a kid. And this started to break me out of my funk. The water reflecting light onto his face, the pure excitement in his voice when he talked, it was easy to focus on how much I loved him and not the stupid things he said sometimes.

I had to remind myself that this was Peter, of course he’d say stupid shit. It didn’t mean he thought less of me or loved me any less. He wasn’t thinking when he said that stuff yesterday, and I was wasting my time and energy by overthinking it.

“Come on, babe, I wanna get to the animals we can pet.”

“You can pet any of them, just sometimes it’s less pleasant and you might get in trouble.”

I laughed, then he took my hand and we went further back in the store. The first thing I did was beeline for the bunny cages.

“Peter, look!” I picked up a small black one and started to pet it. When I looked up at him, he was smiling at me. God, that dumb dork had a wonderful smile.

He came over and stood right in front of me, one hand petting the bunny, one hand falling on my waist. He stuck out his bottom lip. “He’s so cute,” he said, his voice changing to that baby-talk tone.

The bunny was wiggling in my arms, so I put him back in the cage, giving him one last head-pat as a little goodbye.

“You’re adorable,” Peter said, stepping behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist, and resting his chin on my shoulder.

“Come on, I’ve got nothing on Bugs over here.”

“Please, he’s got nothing on you.”

He kissed my cheek. It really was hard to stay mad at him.

“They have sugar gliders here? No way!”

He broke off and ran towards a different cage. They had sugar gliders hanging out, but you had to ask a clerk to handle one.

“Darn, I wanted to play with one.”

“Just ask a clerk, Peter.”

“But…I don’t wanna.”

“Jesus, fine, I’ll do it.”

“I love youuuuu!”

“Whatever, dork.”

I found a clerk (who looked bored out of his mind) and asked him if Peter and I could handle a sugar glider for a couple minutes, so he came over to the cage and unlocked it so Peter could take one out.

“Don’t break him, close the cage when you’re done.”

Peter and I looked at each other while the clerk walked away.

I mostly let Peter play with the sugar glider. They were small and seemed easily lost or broken, so I figured it’d be better left to the guy with spidey reflexes. I did, however, manage to get a couple really cute photos of him.

After he put the sugar glider back (which he elegantly named Todd), we made our way over to the cats and dogs. There were a couple kittens that were adorable, but Peter’s eyes landed on a corgi puppy and then there was no getting him back. He sat and played with the puppy for forty minutes, while I sat next to him, receiving the occasional lick. I was mostly happy to watch him play and laugh and smile.

“What if I bought her?” Peter asked, looking at me for approval.

“Peter, that’s a bad idea.”

“Why? She’s so cute and fluffy and loveable, and Thwip would love her.”

“You can’t afford to drop, what, three hundred bucks on a puppy, babe. And pet shops like this are really unethical, you’d be better off rescuing-”

“You didn’t rescue Murphy.”

“Because my mom saw an ad for a cute puppy and there was no changing her mind after that. If I’d had a say, I would’ve gone to the humane society and adopted one of those puppies.”

Peter’s shoulders dropped.

“You can always come back and visit her.”

“What if someone buys her and I never see her again?”

“Then she’ll have found a home. Isn’t that what you want for her?”

The puppy was currently pawing at the collar of his shirt, panting.

“Yeah, you’re right. I’m gonna be a little sad about this, though.”

I laughed. “Is it really date night with MJ if I didn’t ruin anything with ethics and morality?”

He grinned. “You’re like Chidi from _The Good Place_.”

“Less indecisive.”

“Less indecisive,” he agreed, picking the puppy up and putting her back in the cage. “I’ll come back tomorrow, okay, girl?”

I grinned. “You’re adorable. Can you take me to Miles’ now so he doesn’t complain about you kidnapping me?”

“You’d think for a guy who’s girlfriend was legitimately kidnapped a while ago, he wouldn’t joke about that, but yeah, sure, I can.”

Maybe it was the previous annoyance resurfacing, but it rubbed me the wrong way that he’d said something kind of negative about Miles, the guy who’d literally saved my life a million times.

I shoved that aside. I was probably just hormonal.

We left the mall and he drove me back to Miles’. When we got there, though, he put the car in park and turned to me.

“Is everything okay?”

I frowned. “Yeah, everything’s fine, Peter.”

“Your mom hasn’t been dating again?”

“No, she’s not bringing home shitty guys anymore. I’d tell you if she was.”

Peter tilted his head at me. “You seem off. I don’t know, you’ve just been…like you’re in your own head. All day.”

“I’m not-”

“No, you are. Just- I- did I do something?”

“No, Peter, you didn’t do anything, I-”

I stopped myself when I realized I was raising my voice, and tears were collecting in Peter’s eyes.

“Don’t cry,” I said, desperate. “I didn’t, I’m sorry-”

I don’t know why, I couldn’t explain my logic, but I opened the car door and ran off, into Miles’ building, without looking back or anything.

And I felt awful. Stomach-turning, head-pounding awful.

I spent that night sitting on the floor in front of Miles’ couch, with a (secretly spiked) hot chocolate. Peter didn’t even attempt to call me, text me, anything. All night. Dead silence.

I couldn’t blame him. I was the world’s worst girlfriend. Ditching him, leaving him hanging, because of some stupid thing that was bugging me, and I wasn’t smart enough to bring it up and resolve it.

Miles sat with me for the first few hours. He sat on the couch and watched TV, texting Cindy and ignoring the screen entirely.

Eventually, though, he turned the TV off and got up.

“Hey, I’m gonna head to bed. You need anything?”

I shook my head. “Goodnight,” I said, trying not to let the alcohol show on my voice.

“Goodnight, chica.” He ruffled my hair as he walked away.

I sat there until the early hours of the morning, just staring at the wall, hating myself.

Peter deserved _so much better_.

**January 13 th **

When I woke up, there was a throw blanket over me, a pill and a glass of water on the coffee table, and my mug from last night wasn’t next to me like it had been last I remembered.

I groaned, running my hand through my hair to get all the pieces in my face out of the way. I squeezed my eyes shut, slowly blinking them open again.

“You know, chica,” Miles said, “the pills only help with the headache if you actually take them.”

I shushed him before I even made sense of the words. Too loud. He was too loud and everything was too bright and, god, it’d be better if I was dead.

“How’d you know I was drinking?”

He came around and kneeled in front of me. “You’re not a subtle drunk. And I can tell when you’re not really watching TV because you have a very expressive face, so I always know what you think of an episode. Apparently, last night, you thought precisely nothing.” He was smirking, all smug and pleased with himself for putting it together.

I grabbed a throw pillow off the couch and hit him with it. “Congrats, Sherlock, you caught me.”

He laughed, fending off the pillow. “Take the fucking Advil, Jones.”

 I took the pill and drank the water, giving him a fake smile. “Happy?”

“No, not really,” he said, still too loud. I mean, he was his normal volume, but I guess doing four shots and then pouring another two into your hot chocolate has that effect on you the next day.

“Why not?”

“You need to slow down on the drinking, MJ. Your liver’s probably begging for reprieve and, honestly, I hate seeing you like this.”

“Like what?”

“This isn’t you. Staying up staring at walls, drowning yourself in alcohol, with that blank look on your face. Waking up at, uh, one in the afternoon, hungover as all hell. I miss you.”

“I’m right here, Miles.”

He sighed, dropping his head. “I- okay. I don’t really wanna argue about this today.”

I frowned at him. “Argue about what?”

“Nothing, MJ, we’ll talk about it later.”

He stood up and started walking away. Against my better judgement, I stood up, too. “No, clearly something’s on your mind. Get it out, Miles, you’ll feel better.”

He sighed. “MJ, don’t-”

“If you didn’t wanna say it, you wouldn’t have mentioned it,” I said, letting out a breath at the end.

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’re gonna- fine, you wanna hear it, I’ll- your art isn’t the same. And you haven’t picked up your camera in weeks, I know because it’s sitting in the closet, here, not at your place or in your locker. You barely talk about your mom-”

“No, go back to the art thing. What’s different about my art?”

“MJ, just forget I said that. Your art’s good.”

“But it isn’t the same.”

“I don’t wanna-”

“Miles!”

He looked up at me, eyes wide. I hadn’t said his name like that, like it was a desperate plea, in a long time.

“Just…tell me.”

“Your art used to be kinda impersonal. It wasn’t about you. You had subjects, it was about someone else. And now…now looking at your art is like looking directly into your soul.”

I blinked. “Isn’t that a good thing? Isn’t that what I’m supposed to do when I’m making art?”

“But it’s…when you started your whole positive space project, it was a cool concept, and it was still about the subject. And you did a few of yourself, and they were cool. But then, and I don’t know, maybe this is just me…something changed when your dad died. They all felt like a…like a projection, maybe. You’d do a piece with Peter and I could see him the way you do. Or you’d do a piece with Connor and I could see you begging Harry to make a move on him. And then you did the band art pieces with Connor and Ellie and you and I, and those were distinctly impersonal. There was nothing there but a photo and a logo, and it felt like you were shutting things out. They felt cold. And…now that you’re back to painting and drawing and stuff…it’s- they’re-they’re very intense pieces, MJ.”

“The piece with the hands isn’t-”

Miles walked into the guest room- my room, and came back out holding a sketchbook.

“Tell me you didn’t go through that.”

He didn’t say anything, just held it up.

“Miles-”

He opened to a random page, and the first thing I saw was red. It was a piece I’d done one night when I couldn’t sleep, and all I could think about was Brandon, and it was abstract. It had been, at least, when I’d painted it. But now that I was looking at it with a few feet of distance, I could see the shape of a woman’s body, and blood spilling from-

“Do you see what I mean? This is…this isn’t like anything I’ve seen you do. It scares me, MJ.”

“You had no right to go through that.”

“You’ve never had a problem with me seeing your art before. Why now?”

I didn’t have an answer. I just stared at him, shaking. It wasn’t anger, I wasn’t mad. I was sad or scared or maybe I was panicking.

“Maybe I’m wrong, but this piece feels like it’s about the rape.”

“Don’t call it that.”

“That’s exactly what it is, chica. It was rape. And you know what I’ve noticed? You’ll only call it rape when you’re completely shitfaced. When you’re sober, it’s ‘the Brandon thing’. You’ll only call it rape if you’re drunk.” My head was pounding, because he was raising his voice, and I wanted to turn away, cover my ears, do anything, but I figured this was as bad as it got, and if I could make it through this conversation, I’d be okay.

“I-”

“MJ, you’re not dealing with it! With anything! You’ve let this pile up and take over! You’re like a-a passive voice in your life! It’s not you, none of this is you! I miss you.”

It was quiet now, just the two of us, staring at each other, the painting in the sketchbook still glaringly red.

“I don’t know what you want me to do,” I whispered.

He laughed, bitter and humourless. “Go to therapy. Do something to get better. Stop drinking your feelings like that’ll make them go away.”

“I- I can’t do that, Miles. I don’t have the money-”

“There are counsellors at school-”

“I can’t tell them what happened!” I shouted, and it made my own head throb. “I can’t walk into an office and say, ‘Hey, a few months ago I was drugged and raped by my mom’s boyfriend on my mom’s bed while my mom was in the kitchen, and as a result I’ve been throwing back shots like they’re Skittles,’ because that’s going to end badly for everyone-”

“How do you-”

“I told you, Miles, I don’t need the police to get involved, and the last thing I need is for this to get out and to be labelled ‘the girl who got raped’ at school. Flash already talks enough shit about me, thank you very much.”

Miles paused. “He hasn’t told anybody about-”

“He told all of our friends, Miles. It’s a miracle it’s stayed so contained.”

He stopped, looked down at his feet, and just breathed in and out a few times. Then he stepped towards me and handed me the sketchbook.

“I’m sorry I looked through it,” he told me, giving me big, apologetic puppy eyes.

“It’s okay. I didn’t exactly tell you not to.”

“Here, chica.” He wrapped his arms around me, pulling me into a tight hug. Hugs from Miles were the best, second only to Mama Morales’s hugs. “You’re gonna be okay, okay? Just, you know, don’t kill yourself drinking before then.”

“Okay,” I mumbled into his shirt. I didn’t know if I was lying or not.

**January 14 th **

I waited by Peter’s locker for him before classes started for the day. I was ready for him to walk up with Ned, but he didn’t. It was just him.

He looked upset, and I got that horrible guilty feeling in my stomach.

“Good morning,” I said. I realized I was hugging myself around the waist. Well, that was a dead giveaway on the body language that I was nervous.

“Morning, babe,” he said, but his voice fell flat.

“I, um, I owe you an apology. I shouldn’t have flipped out at you on Saturday, and I definitely shouldn’t have walked out on you or ghosted you or-”

It occurred to me that I’d done to him exactly what he used to do to me when he was upset. When I was drunk and yelling and crying when Cindy was gone, what did he do? Leave. Stop answering his phone. Ghost me.

That just made me feel worse.

“It’s okay, MJ, just- are you feeling better? Is everything okay?”

I smiled, close-lipped. “Yeah, I’m good.”

He smiled, a big, genuine smile, then leaned in and kissed me. “Good. I’m glad. That’s all I needed to hear.”

January 18th

I was standing in the kitchen, staring blankly into the (mostly empty) fridge, when I heard clattering on the fire escape outside my window, like it was shaking.

Then I heard a smack and a groan. I closed the fridge and looked into my room. Peter, in the suit, had his forehead pressed to the window and his hands on the windowsill, holding himself up.

I ran over and knocked on it, which spooked him enough that he jumped back. I opened the window.

“Hey.”

“Hi, MJ.” His voice was muffled by the mask, as per usual.

“You gonna come in, or do you wanna stand out in the cold all night?”

He seemed to snap out of a daze. “Oh, yeah.”

When he stepped towards the window, I noticed a limp.

Maybe he was just off-balance.

I helped him through the window and sat him down on the bed.

“Are you okay? Are you- are you hurt?” I asked, feeling under his chin for the seam so I could pull the mask off. He pushed my hands away and grabbed the mask at the top of his head, yanking it off unceremoniously. His curls flew up and flopped back down messily.

He had a black eye, not to mention a bruised cheekbone and jawline, all on the left side of his face. His bottom lip was even a little purple and swollen, but it wasn’t split, which was good.

“Jesus,” I mumbled. “I’ll get you some ice.”

 I was already moving away when he grabbed my hand, pulling me back gently. “No, stay here for a second,” he said, his voice softer and more delicate than usual. He sounded like a little kid with a scraped knee for a second. It made my heart hurt.

I stood in front of him, and he wrapped his arms around my waist and buried his face in my stomach. I started playing with his hair. I could feel the sweat in it, which made me worry a little, because he didn’t normally sweat enough to make his hair greasy.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, voice muffled by my shirt.

“For what?”

“I yelled at you on the rooftop and I never apologized, and I kept wondering why you seemed distant and I realized that I’d probably scared you or something and…I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I make you worry and I scare you and I’m not good for you, but I need you so bad.” He was squeezing me tighter, and his voice made him sound like he was going to cry, but it hadn’t broken yet, so I hoped it wouldn’t and I wouldn’t have to watch him cry tonight.

“It’s okay, babe. Everything’s okay. You’re plenty good for me.”

Normally, I think he would’ve fought me on that, but his whole body seemed to sad with exhaustion, and he just hummed softly, his arms tightening more around my waist. I kept playing with his hair with one hand, then ran the other over his shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Can you let me get you some ice now?”

Peter groaned.

“Babe, you’ll thank me when your eye isn’t swollen shut.”

He loosened his arms, pulled back a little, and looked up at me. I hated seeing him beat up like this. It made me wanna cry. Instead, I brushed some curls out of his face, and traced my fingers over the right side of his face, watching him close his eyes and lean into my hand.

“You gotta let me go, Peter, just for a moment. I’ll be back.”

“Mkay,” he mumbled, letting go and falling back on the bed. It knocked a huff of breath out of him.

“Should I turn on the light?”

“No, no, I have a headache. The dark is fine.”

I went back into the kitchen and looked in the freezer. We barely had enough ice for a drink, let alone for a pack for a beat-up boy on my bed. I grabbed one of our two bags of frozen peas (great, we had enough frozen peas to fill a bathtub, but no cheese for a grilled cheese), wrapped it in a couple layers of paper towel so it wasn’t too cold, and then headed back into my bedroom.

“Should I take the suit off? In case your mom comes home?”

“She’s with Denise tonight, we’re fine. Sit up, hun.”

He sat up and then scooted until his back was against the headboard, curls falling forward again. I sat in front of him, brushing the hair out of his face, and handed him the frozen peas.

“Thanks, love.”

“No more than twenty minutes on each bruise,” I told him, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “I’ll make you some soup.”

“MJ, it’s fine, you don’t have to-”

“It’s non-negotiable.”

I left the room and went back into the kitchen. Thankfully, the kitchen was right across from my bedroom, so I could see him from the stove. We didn’t have enough in the fridge to make a soup, but we did have a couple of Campbell’s cans in the pantry. I had to dig around a bit to find the chicken noodle soup one, but I did eventually find it, close to the back. I had to dig around for a can opener, too, but then cracked the can open and poured it into a saucepan. I wasn’t microwaving soup for the poor boy. I put it on the stove and warmed it up, until there was a little bit of steam coming off of it, then ladled some into a mug. It wasn’t the classiest, but Peter wasn’t about to let me spoon-feed him, and this would minimize effort. (I threw a spoon into the mug, though. For the carrots.)

If Mom ever decided to buy groceries or give me the card so I could buy them, I’d make him something a little less thrown together.

When I walked back into the room, he was holding the peas against his cheek, eyes closed, head tipped back against the headboard.

“Hey,” I said softly, trying not to startle him. He opened his eyes, the corners of his mouth lifting.

“You’re an angel.”

I scoffed. “Sure.” I sat down on the bed again. “Let’s trade.”

He handed me the frozen peas, then took the mug with both hands, holding it up to his face for a second. “This smells really good.”

“It’s, um, Campbell’s. There isn’t a lot in the house right now-”

“Don’t worry about it, MJ. Thank you.”

I fiddled with the frozen peas while he took a sip. I noticed he was being careful to hold the mug with his fingertips.

Right. Web shooters.

I reached over and took his web shooters off of his wrists, putting them on the nightstand. He didn’t fight me on it, or say anything, really. Maybe he was just too exhausted.

He drank about half of the soup before he held the mug out again. “Trade?”

I took the mug and gave him the peas. He pressed them to his eye, lips parting as he let out a breath.

“Any other injuries?” I asked, putting the mug down by the web shooters.

“No, I’m-I’m fine,” he said, but it sounded like a lie.

“Peter-”

“It’s nothing that won’t heal by morning,” he told me. “I don’t need you to play nurse, I just need you to be here.”

I didn’t say anything. I didn’t like sitting and doing nothing, especially when he was clearly in pain.

He must’ve picked up on that, because he said, “Come sit with me.” He patted the space next to him, so I moved, sitting with my back against the headboard. He put his head on my shoulder. “Sorry, I know I’m all gross and sweaty, I’ll take a shower in a bit.”

We traded soup and frozen peas until he was done the soup and the peas were room temperature, then he stretched his arms and got up, wavering a bit on his feet but steadying himself.

“You’re alright with me taking a shower, right?”

“Yeah, of course, dipshit,” I teased. “You practically live here.”

He laughed, then winced a little, smacking the spider logo on the centre of his chest. The suit got all baggy and fell right off of him, leaving him in his boxers.

There were bruises all along the left side of his body. His shoulder and arm, the side of his ribs, down his leg…

Before I knew what I was doing, I was standing and crossing to him, fingers tracing over his ribs. He winced, and I pulled back.

“Sorry, sorry.”

Then I got a good look at his eyes. I hadn’t really been paying attention before, but now I was a few inches away from him, and I could see how glazed and unfocused they were.

“Peter, how well can you see?” I asked, gently holding his face and turning it so they light coming through my bedroom door hit his eyes. He winced and turned his head back. Light sensitivity.

“Everything’s kind of…blurry, but it’s not bad.”

“And when I was clunking around in the kitchen, did it make your dead hurt worse?”

“For a bit, maybe.”

I frowned. “Are you dizzy? Nauseous? Are your ears ringing?”

“MJ, I told you I didn’t want you to play nurse.”

“Answer me.”

He glanced down, sighing. “Yeah, a bit of all three.”

“Peter, I think you’re concussed.”

“No, I’m not, this just…it’ll go away.”

“What happened?” I asked, keeping my voice gentle and soft.

He hesitated. “I was…I was fighting this guy who was robbing Mr. Delmar, and-and he punched me a couple times, and he was really strong, and he had this weird glove thing that hummed and lit up and every time he hit me with it, it was kind of…tingly? Is that the word? And then I tried to web him, but you know when you’re out in the cold and you can’t move your fingers as fast? I had that. So I was distracted, and he hit me again and I fell into the counter, then he grabbed me and lifted me up and just threw me down again. But I got him after that, I webbed him to the wall as he was running off and-”

“Peter, I’m proud of you, but that’s not what I’m worried about right now. Did you hit your head?”

He blinked a few times, furrowing his brows. “I don’t know. I don’t remember. Maybe?”

“You’re definitely concussed. You should lay down. You need rest.”

“No,” he whined, “I feel gross.”

“I’m not an expert, but I feel like slipping and falling in the shower is, like, twenty times more likely if you’re concussed.”

He smiled. “You could just get in the shower with me.”

I rolled my eyes. “Typical.”

“Hey, I’m serious,” he said, pulling me closer. “If you give me a scalp massage right now, I’ll be the happiest guy alive.”

“You don’t need to shower that badly, you can shower in the morning. Lay down.”

“MJ, I feel all grubby and sweaty.”

I sighed. “Fine. But behave yourself,” I told him firmly.

He grinned. “I can do that.”

He practically dragged me into the bathroom. I turned the lights on but dimmed them as much as I could, and played some quiet music, just so it wasn’t completely dark and completely quiet, but it wouldn’t make Peter’s headache any worse.

Showering required a little bit of orchestration. Peter kept his hands on my waist whenever my hands were occupied, keeping himself steady. I shampooed his hair, massaging my fingers through his curls, and then massaged his scalp as the water rinsed the shampoo out. He didn’t normally use conditioner, but he let me use it on him tonight, closing his eyes and relaxing as I massaged that in, too.

“Okay, you gotta let that sit in your hair for a bit,” I said, pulling away to get to my shampoo. He pulled me back, resting his forehead on my shoulder.

“Peter-”

“Just-just give me a second, MJ,” he murmured.

I let him hold me like that for a minute longer, running my fingers up and down his back, making note of every contour of his body.

It was one of those weird, magical moments. A dimly lit shower, quiet music playing in the background, hot water spraying against us, warm steam filling the room. Peter letting himself asking for things and letting me take care of him. I hated that Peter was hurt, but I loved this moment. I loved having his here right now.

Then he pulled away, and grabbed my shampoo.

“Babe, I can-”

“Nope.”

“You’re concussed, you’re not supposed to be focusing on anything.”

“Putting shampoo in your hair isn’t gonna require the same amount of focus as the SATs, MJ.”

I sighed, letting him give me the same treatment I’d just given him. He massaged the shampoo through my hair, and I closed my eyes, focusing on his fingers against my scalp. I found myself humming along with the music, smiling a little.

He massaged my scalp and the shampoo rinsed out of my hair, then put the conditioner in. Once he was done, I pulled away, pulling my hair up into a loose bun with the hair tie on my wrist.

I opened the shower curtain a little to grab us each a wash cloth, and then we each lathered up our bodies with soap. I had to hold Peter steady while he was soaping up, and then he held a hand to the shower wall as I did the same.

Then we rinsed off, then rinsed the conditioner out of our hair, and once we were all clean, Peter leaned in and kissed me.

Normally, this was fine, and I wasn’t opposed to him making moves on me like this. But we were both naked in a shower, and I wasn’t super comfortable with the idea of shower sex right now. Let’s be honest, I wasn’t super comfortable with the idea of any sex right now.

I pushed him away gently.

“Maybe kiss me when we’re not both half-focused on keeping you from slipping,” I mumbled. He nodded.

We got out of the shower, dried off, and got dressed. I had a stash of Peter’s clothing, so he put on a pair of his sweatpants and one of his sweaters. I put on one of his sweatpants and a tank top. I had him to keep me warm, anyways.

We sat on my bed, cuddled up, and watched Netflix on my laptop. I set a few alarms on my phone to wake us up during the night, since you’re supposed to wake up someone with a concussion every so often to make sure they can still wake up.

Eventually, we were both too warm and sleepy to try to stay awake for Netflix, so I put my laptop away and we crawled under the covers, wrapping ourselves around each other. I was cozy and warm and so, so happy.

“MJ?” Peter murmured, his lips brushing against my neck.

“Yeah, babe?”

“I love you.”

My heart swelled. “I love you, too, Peter.”

I could feel his lips pull into a smile, then relax again as he fell asleep.


	3. Iris

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> song for this chapter is needy by ariana grande

**January 22 nd **

I went over to the Jensen’s place to hang out with my siblings, specifically the baby. When I knocked on the door, Charlie immediately opened it and hugged me.

“You gotta come over more, it’s been, like, three weeks,” she mumbled. I laughed.

“Sorry, Charlie, I’ve been busy.” Drunk. I’ve been drunk, and crying. A lot. And being around her and Eli and Iris didn’t help because they all looked like Dad.

“Yeah, yeah, I know, you’re a senior and you have friends and a boyfriend,” she teased, pulling me inside.

“Where’s Eli?”

“Uh, he’s gotta rewrite some test.”

I frowned. “What? He’s a fucking genius, what is he rewriting?”

She shrugged. “His teacher made him write a test the day after Dad died, and he failed, for obvious reasons, but complained to the teacher that it was unfair and she didn’t care, so he brought it to the department head and he didn’t care, so Eli brought it to his grade coordinator and there was this whole meeting Mom had to go to so she could curse some teachers out, and now he’s rewriting the test.”

“Wow. That’s wack.”

“MJ?” Mrs. Jensen called from the kitchen.

“Hi!”

“Can you guys come in here? I need a little assistance!”

We hurried into the kitchen, where Mrs. Jensen was holding the baby and pulling ingredients out of the fridge.

“Here, MJ, can you hold the baby?”

“Yeah, of course.”

I took Iris, cradling her in both arms.

“Charlie, do you mind helping me cook dinner tonight?” Mrs. Jensen asked. I looked at her. She never really needed help. She’d give Charlie and Eli tasks sometimes, but she was always plenty capable on her own. But looking at her now, her hair was tied up messily, she had dark circles under her eyes, and she looked like she’d lost a few pounds.

“Yeah, sure, Mom. What are we making?”

She sighed. “Uh, Eli wanted chicken stew, I think.”

They got to work, chopping up ingredients, while I stood there, making faces at Iris.

“Do you want me to babysit her once in a while?” I offered. “Just to lessen your workload?”

Mrs. Jensen stared at me, and for a second I thought she was about to get angry, but instead she deflated. “Only if you’re not too busy with school, I’d love that. Do you know how to change a diaper and the rules around formula and stuff?”

I nodded. “I used to babysit for a neighbour in my building before they moved.”

She smiled. “Yeah, if you can take her once in a while for a night, that’d be amazing.”

I smiled back. “No problem. I can ask Peter if he’ll help once or twice.”

Charlie gave me a look. “What, do you wanna make sure he’d be a good dad?”

I rolled my eyes. “We’re in high school, Charlie, I’m not assuming he’s my future baby daddy.”

She raised her eyebrows. “So you don’t wanna be with him forever?”

“That’s not what I said. I’d love to be with him forever, but I don’t know if that’s realistic. Not everybody marries their high school sweetheart.”

Mrs. Jensen changed the topic, and we all chatted while they cooked, and I swayed back and forth, keeping the baby calm.

She was staring at me, big brown eyes piercing into my soul. She was fussing a little, cooing and reaching to grab at my hair. I had it tied up, but my baby hairs were untameable, and now she was reaching for them.

“Hi, no, sorry, pumpkin, but you will yank my hairs out and I’m not cool with that.”

Charlie chuckled at my bad baby-talk. “You know she doesn’t really care what you say, right?”

“I don’t think she cares about much other than, like, food.”

She cooed again, wiggling again in my arms. I shifted, holding her up higher against my chest. She reached up again, so I held my head up higher, so she couldn’t grab at my hair.

“She likes you,” Mrs. Jensen said.

I frowned. “How can you tell?”

“Well, for one, if Eli holds her for more than a couple minutes, she starts screaming. She won’t even let a lot of people touch her. She’s very picky.”

I smiled. “I feel very validated.”

Iris started babbling, kind of smiling at me.

“Aww, pumpkin, you’re smiling,” I said to her.

She giggled. I looked up at Charlie.

“She’s so cute.”

“Yeah, she’s cute until she wakes you up once an hour all night,” Charlie grumbled.

Eli came in. “I’m home! Is MJ here!”

“Yep! We’re in the kitchen, honey!” Mrs. Jensen called back. He came in, grinning.

“That went much better than the first time around. Didn’t cry into the paper, which definitely helped.”

I laughed. “Yeah, that’d do the trick.”

He came up next to me, looking at Iris over my shoulder.

“How long have you had her?”

I shrugged. “A little while.”

He pouted, stepping away. “I can’t figure out why she hates me.”

I scrunched my nose up a little. “Might be the Old Spice.”

Charlie laughed. “Yeah, I hate him over that, too.”

He punched her arm.

“Do you have any homework, honey?”

He nodded. “I have a science project about DNA that I’ve gotta do.”

“Okay, go get started on that, and I’ll call you down when dinner’s ready,” Mrs. Jensen told him.

“Sounds good, Mom.” He planted a kiss on her cheek and went upstairs.

Eventually, my arms got sore, so Charlie and I traded. She took Iris, getting a bottle out of the fridge for her, and I took over her jobs in the kitchen.

“How are things with your mom?” Mrs. Jensen asked quietly.

I shrugged. “I haven’t really interacted with her in a while. If I’m home, she isn’t. If she’s home, I leave.”

She frowned. “Where do you stay?”

“Miles, who’s, like, my best friend. Or Peter’s place.”

She nodded. “If they’re ever unavailable, you can stay here, alright MJ?”

“Yeah. Thank you, Mrs. Jensen-”

“Oh, honey, my name’s Adina. I’d rather you call me that. Mrs. Jensen feels like I’m your teacher, which I’m not.”

I nodded. “Thank you, Adina.”

She smiled. “Much better. Alright, can you check on the broth?”

We finished up the stew together, then I ran upstairs to call Eli downstairs.

I knocked on his doorframe. He was sitting on his floor, gluing strips of coloured paper to his poster.

“Dinner’s ready,” I told him. He looked up.

“Yeah, I’ll be right there.”

I came inside and sat down on the floor with him.

“Did you think about, like, colouring in the DNA with markers?” I asked, watching him glue another strip of paper down.

He sighed. “I tried, but all my markers are dried out, and this looks better anyways.” He finished sticking that piece down. “Alright, I’m good to go. You guys made chicken stew, right?”

I nodded. “Let’s go.”

We got up and went downstairs. Mrs. Jensen had set the table, and Charlie was rocking the baby back and forth.

“Here,” I said, reaching for Iris. “I’ll take her until you’re done eating, then we’ll trade.”

“Thanks, MJ.”

I sat down between Eli and Charlie as Mrs. Jensen handed out bowls of stew. I held Iris in one arm, her head resting on my upper arm as I picked at my stew. We talked about our days. Eli asked a bunch about Peter, trying to pull info out of me. I think he was trying to fill the role of the over-protective brother, but it was adorable coming from my baby brother.

Once Charlie finished, I handed Iris off to her, and finished my stew.

“Okay, I gotta run to the drugstore,” Mrs. Jensen said. “Eli, Charlie, can you two handle clean-up?”

“Got it, Mom.”

“MJ, just sit on the couch with Iris and watch a movie. If she falls asleep, don’t worry about it, she’ll wake up within forty-five minutes.”

I gave her a thumbs-up before taking Iris from Charlie. I laid down on the couch with her, and watched _Clueless_ (it was the first thing that came up on Charlie’s list). Iris fell asleep a little while in, but woke up when Charlie and Eli came into the living room. She fussed for a second, but I wrapped my arms around her and kissed her forehead softly, and she calmed down.

“Why the heck does she love you so much?” Eli asked, exasperated.

Charlie stared at me for a moment, then very quietly said, “She does look a lot like Dad.”

The three of us fell silent. I didn’t know how to feel about this. The baby liked me because I looked like her dead father, the one she’d never know.

When the movie was done, I handed her off to Charlie and headed home.

**January 24 th **

I woke up to my phone buzzing. I picked up the call.

“Peter, babe, it’s six-thirty.”

“Happy one month!” he said, and I could hear the smile on his face. It put a smile on my face, however sleepy said smile was.

“Happy one month, dork.”

“Can I take you to breakfast?”

I groaned. “But it’s so early,” I whined.

“Pleeeeease, love?”

I sighed. Wow, I was a sucker. “Yeah, pick me up in twenty.”

“I love you, MJ.”

“I love you, too, Peter. I gotta get ready, I’ll see you in twenty.”

“See you soon.”

I hung up, then rolled out of bed. I threw on clothes, brushed my teeth, did my hair and makeup in record time, grabbed my bag, put food and water out for Murphy, and ran downstairs. Peter was waiting in his car, window rolled down.

“You’re two minutes and forty seconds late,” he teased.

I ran up to the side of the car, leaning in and kissing him. “Good morning, nerd.”

“Good morning,” he mumbled, kissing me one more time. I jumped into the car, and we went to get waffles.

We got to a restaurant and got seated almost immediately (since it was desperately early on a Thursday morning). We played footsie under the table as we looked through the menu, and when our food got to us, we kept stealing bites of each other’s orders.

When we got to school, we walked in, hand-in-hand, stopping at my locker first so I could drop off my books and grab my sketchbook and art supplies. We got to Peter’s locker next, and I leaned against the locker next to his, chatting about our plans for the evening.

“Morning,” Ned said, approaching us. “Happy one month, kids.”

I frowned. “You remembered?”

Ned looked at Peter. Peter started to turn pink. “I might’ve spent all evening talking about it to him,” Peter admitted sheepishly.

“Aww, you’re cute.”

Ned covered his eyes with his hand. “Go ahead and kiss.”

I laughed, giving Peter a quick kiss, then tapped Ned’s shoulder to let him know it was safe to lower his hand.

“Sorry,” he said, uncovering his eyes, “just, you know, newly single, all of that.”

“Fair enough.”

The warning bell rang.

“Okay, Ned, let’s head to class,” Peter said, closing his locker. “MJ, I’ll see you for lunch, right?”

“Yeah, of course, babe.”

He kissed my cheek, then gave me a big grin. “I’ll see you then.”

First and second went by slowly. I spent them in the art room, working on a quick piece to post about Peter today, and then spent some time trying to plan out a Valentine’s piece. It didn’t work out very well. I ended up striking thick black lines on several sketchbook pages.

When the lunch bell rang, I booted it to my locker, shoving my stuff into it and pulling out my jacket. Peter met me as I was zipping up my jacket.

“You ready for iced coffee?” he asked, holding up his keys.

“Always.”

He slipped an arm around me as I closed my locker and walked out to his car with him. We drove through a Starbucks drive-thru, getting two iced coffees, and then drove back to the school and sat in his car in the parking lot. We unbuckled and sat so we could face each other as much as we could.

“I have a question.”

“Shoot,” Peter said, taking a sip of his coffee and looking at me.

“Do you remember that day we went to Planned Parenthood and you said you wanted to have kids with me?”

“Yeah…” He looked stressed.

“Did you mean that?” I asked, my voice getting quiet all of a sudden.

He stared at me. “Is that- is that it?”

“Yeah, that’s the whole question. Do you actually wanna have kids with me?”

“Of course, MJ. Geez, I was worried you were gonna tell me you were actually pregnant, and I was freaking out because, you know, we’re not doing anything so I don’t know how you would’ve gotten pregnant unless you-”

“No, no, it’s just…I was hanging out with my baby sister the other night and Charlie was asking about us and…I don’t know.”

“Yeah, MJ, of course I wanna have kids with you. Obviously not until we’re older, but that’s part of the, like, ten year plan.”

I smiled. “Really? You put that in your ten year plan?”

“Really,” he said, looking kinda proud of himself.

“Would you be able to slot, like, babysitting Iris with me in the plan for the next few months? Not, like, often, but my step-mom’s kind of struggling with the whole single parent thing, and-”

“Of course I can,” Peter said. He slipped a hand around the back of my neck, pulling me in and kissing me softly, then pressed a kiss to my cheek as he pulled away. “Come on, we should go in so we’re not late to class.”

We got out of the car and walked into the school, shivering against the cold.

“Why did we get iced coffee in this weather?” he complained.

“Because we’re not pussies,” I teased. “Okay, I’ll see you after school.”

“See you, love.”

We each went our separate ways to our lockers. I slid into the seat of my third block class just as the last bell rang.

The afternoon passed slightly faster, maybe because I had caffeine in my system, and I practically bounced to Peter’s locker afterwards.

“So, your place first to cuddle and watch TV, then dinner, then watch the new episode of Brooklyn Nine-Nine?” I asked.

“Sounds about right,” he said. “How hard did that caffeine hit you?”

“Very.”

He laughed. “Okay, love, let’s go.”

We went back out to his car and drove back to his place. Thwip ran up to us when we got in the door, jumping on the both of us and demanding attention. Once she was satisfied, she curled up under the coffee table.

“I don’t know why she likes it under there,” Peter sighed, dumping his books in his room and sitting on the couch with me. “It’s weird.”

“She’s a dog, Peter, they have different thought processes.”

He gave me a tired look. “Alright, smarty-pants-”

“Hey!”

He laughed, pulling me into his lap. “Okay, what are you in the mood for? Do you wanna watch the Ellen stand-up?”

“Sure.”

He turned it on, and wrapped his arms around me, tight. I could feel the vibrations in his chest every time he laughed. I let my head rest on his shoulder, spending about equal time staring at him as I did at the screen.

I had the most beautiful boy on the planet, hands down.

“What are you looking at?” he asked, glancing at me.

“You.”

“And I’m the cheesy one,” he scoffed.

“I never claimed to not be cheesy,” I pointed out. “And it’s not my fault you’re so gorgeous.”

He laughed. “I am nothing compared to you, love.”

“I beg to differ.”

He kissed me, smiling against my lips.

“We’re definitely being a super gross mushy couple,” I mumbled, turning my face into his chest, smiling despite myself.

“Yeah, who cares? It’s kind of a special occasion.”

“It’s a one month anniversary.”

“Yeah, I know, it’s not a huge deal, but I think we’re allowed to be extra mushy. Besides, nobody else is around.”

I sighed. “I know. I’m just- yeah, I’m being stupid.”

He laughed. “You’re not being stupid, MJ.”

I kept my face buried in his shoulder, and he ran his hand up and down my back.

After another hour, he said, “Ready to go get dinner?”

“I’m kinda sleepy now.”

“Come on, MJ, we can cuddle and sleep when we get back.”

I sighed, sitting up and stretching. “Okay, okay.”

We went to La Marinara, true to tradition.

We got pastas, and then split a dessert. Halfway through dessert, Tony called Peter.

“Is it alright if I take this?”

“Yeah, babe, it might be important. Take it.”

He answered. “Hey, Mr. Stark…yeah, I’m out at dinner with MJ…it’s-it’s our one month…oh, thank you, it’s not really a big deal…yeah, yeah…okay…yeah, sounds good…okay, goodnight! Love you, too.” He hung up. “He says hi.”

“What was that about?”

“Oh, he just wanted to check in because I haven’t texted him all day.”

I picked up my spoon and dug back into our dessert. “I don’t think I’ve spoken to my mom in, like, two weeks, and he goes one day without a text from you and gets all worried. It’s cute.”

Peter frowned. “No, MJ, that’s him making sure I’m okay because he knows I could’ve gotten hurt. If I didn’t hear from you for a whole day, I’d be worried, too.”

“Yeah, but that’s…that’s different. I text you constantly.”

He reached across the table, putting one hand over one of mine. “Have you seriously not spoken to your mom in weeks?”

I shrugged. “Yeah. I don’t think the two of us have been in the apartment at the same time for a few weeks, either.”

He gave me a sad look. “What about Miles’ mom?”

“Oh, I texted her, like, four times today.”

“But you haven’t communicated with your mom in weeks?”

I nodded.

He slid out of his side of the booth and slid in next to me, wrapping his arms around me, tight.

“Peter, what are you doing?”

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled.

“What do you mean?” I was half-laughing.

“Just- your mom doesn’t really take care of you at all, and I wish she would, because you deserve that.”

My nose started to tingle. “Peter…”

“Oh, geez, am I making you cry?” he asked, pulling back abruptly and looking at my eyes, carefully.

I laughed, trying to play it off. “No, it’s okay. Let’s finish and pay and go back to your place.”

We finished up dessert, sitting on the same side of the booth. I teased him about us being the gross mushy couple again, but he agreed this time, leaning into me.

We paid and drove home.

“I set the TV to record tonight’s episode, so do you wanna go to bed instead?” Peter asked as we walked into his apartment.

“Yeah, I’m perfectly fine with that,” I said. “We can watch it on Saturday.”

He smiled. “Sounds good.”

We went into his room. I changed into some of his clothes and brushed my teeth and then crawled into bed. He crawled in next to me a minute later, having put out fresh water for Thwip.

“This month went crazy fast, didn’t it?” I asked, wrapping my arms around him and pulling him close.

“Time flies when you’re with the love of your life?”

I laughed softly, kissing him, then tucked my head under his chin and nuzzled into his neck. I felt him sort of curl around me.

“Peter?” I whispered.

“Yeah?”

“I wish you could’ve met my dad.”

There was a long pause. “I wish you could’ve met mine, too.”

My nose started to tingle again. “I wanted him to walk me down the aisle to you,” I told him. “I know it’s kind of a sexist tradition, giving the daughter away, but it would’ve been nice, you know?”

Peter squeezed me tighter. “I know.”

I felt a soft kiss on the top of my head.

“I’m sorry, love.”

I squeezed him tighter. “It’s okay.”

I drifted off a few minutes later.

**February 1 st**

Since the whole group hadn’t hung out in a while, we decided dinner at the diner was a good idea, because why not, right?

Well.

Jess and Ned refused to speak to each other, and anytime they made eye contact, there was an awkward staring contest.

Ned barely ate, despite Betty trying to convince him to do more than pick at his fries.

Connor was gazing sadly at Harry, who got up twice during dinner to go outside and smoke.

I’d brought my fake ID, despite Peter’s protesting, so I was drunk.

Miles and Cindy were the only happy, normal couple at the table, gazing into each other’s eyes, feeding each other fries, generally being gross.

“Peter,” I whined, leaning against his shoulder and looking up at him.

“Yes, love?”

“Can you carry me out to the car?” I asked, batting my eyelashes.

“Okay, let me pay and then I’ll carry you out.”

He got up and went to the counter to pay. Miles shot me a concerned look.

“You alright, chica?”

“Yep, just a little dizzy.”

“I can see that. You drank quite a bit.”

I shrugged. “They’ve got the good stuff.”

Miles chuckled. When Peter came back, he said, “Peter, please make her drink some water.”

Peter nodded. “Yeah, I know. Okay, come on, MJ.”

He scooped me up, and I giggled, wrapping my arms around his neck.

“Bye guys!”

Peter carried me out of the restaurant and out to his car.

“Hey, Peter?” I mumbled.

“Yeah?”

“I’m sorry.”

He looked at me. “Why?”

“I’m a mess.”

We got to the car so he had to set me down, but he held onto me, in case I stumbled.

“You’re not a mess, MJ.”

I shook my head. “I am. ‘N’ I dunno how to fix it.”

“You- MJ, why do you think you’re a mess?”

“I keep getting drunk and I still can’t have sex with you even though I wanna and I keep missing my dad and I keep thinking about Brandon and I don’t know how to be okay again,” I rambled, my eyes getting blurry as I teared up. “And I’m scared you’re gonna leave me if I can’t make myself better but-but-but-”

“I’m not gonna leave you,” Peter said softly, holding my face in both of his hands. “I promised you I wouldn’t leave and I won’t. I’m gonna help you through all of this, okay?”

I let out a choked sob.

“Come here, baby.”

He pulled me into a tight hug and let me cry into his shoulder for a few minutes.

“Okay, love,” he whispered after a few minutes, “we should get in the car, because it’s cold.”

I nodded, wiping my face. “I’m sorry,” I told him again.

He helped me into the car, tucking a piece of hair behind my ear before he closed the door, then he got into the driver’s seat.

“My place?” he asked. I nodded. “Okay.”

He held my hand the whole way to his place, running his thumb over my knuckles. I was dizzy and sleepy, so he carried me up to his apartment, and helped me change into sweats before tucking me into bed.

“I gotta make sure Thwip is fed and everything, and then I’ll bring you water and we can go to sleep.”

I nodded, pulling the covers around myself as he walked out of the room.

They smelt like him. It wasn’t surprising, but it was comforting.

He came back a few minutes later with a tall glass.

“Okay, drink all of this, and then we can cuddle.”

I didn’t like it. I didn’t wanna drink the water. Water was no fun. But I wanted cuddles, so I took the glass, chugging it, and then handed it back to him and opened my arms. I felt like a toddler that wants to be lifted.

He got into bed, letting me wrap myself around him and sleep on top of him, burying my face in his shoulder.

“I love you, Peter Parker,” I slurred.

He kissed my temple. “I love you, too, Michelle Jones.”

 


	4. rock bottom

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alrighty kiddos through a series of instagram polls, I decided to launch the chasing cars shirts and such. I feel like kind of a dick, telling you to give me your money for a shirt based off of a thing I made, so def don't feel obligated. if you have any questions, my ig is @mj.aka.michellejones.  
> you can buy the shirts here: https://www.bonfire.com/chasing-cars/  
> it just helps me with getting my shit together for university, potentially a new laptop, stuff like that. I know they're kinda pricey, but if you have the cash it really helps me out (plus, like, you're actually getting a product out of it, it's not like it's just a gofundme) (this is what I tell myself to make me feel better)  
> they only print + charge you if more than 11 are sold, but I can always relaunch the campaign if we don't sell enough. thanks!
> 
> trigger warning for suicide mentions in this chapter (sorry for the sharp topic change lol) song for this chapter is Let Go from the Into The Spiderverse album (I'm still so happy they won that oscar!)

**February 5 th **

I stared at the bottle, it sitting on my dresser, me sitting on my bed.

It was a bad idea. I’d be disappointing Peter, and Miles, and Harry, and everyone.

But tonight was bad. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw my dad, laying in that hospital bed.

I wanted him back so bad. It was childish and stupid, but god, I needed him more than I realized.

Part of me thought I could just go over to the Jensen’s and hang out with Eli and Charlie and help with the baby. But I felt like I could break at any second. And I didn’t need to have a mental breakdown tonight.

And then I was back to staring at the bottle of Hennessy on my dresser.

I didn’t wanna have to see that sad look on Peter’s face, or hear the disappointment in Miles’ voice when I showed up to school hungover. Again.

But this was all I was anymore.

I grabbed the bottle off my dresser, opened it, and put the bottle to my lips.

What doesn’t kill you only damages your liver, right?

I tipped the bottom up and took four gulps, the alcohol burning the whole way down my throat. I put the bottle back on my dresser and laid down on my bed, waiting for it to kick in.

My phone buzzed in my pocket.

Peter: hey baby how’s your evening going?

Me: it’s good

Peter: do you want me to bring thwip over and keep you company tonight?

That was a bad idea. That was a very, very bad idea.

Me: no that’s okay

Peter: are you alright?

Shit.

Me: yeahh everythings fien

Oh, great, alcohol on an empty stomach meant it was already hitting me.

Peter: mj are you drunk?

Me: no. no no no no no. just a typo. all goid

Peter: …

Peter: okay

I dropped my phone on the bed, letting out a breath.

I couldn’t lie to him without feeling nauseous.

Me: fine okay I’be had some alcohol

Peter: I’m coming over.

Me: don’t do thta

Me: I hatr seeing you sad

Me: an you get sad wrhn I drink

Peter: you can’t get wasted alone in your apartment

Peter: and of course I get sad when you’re drunk. I just want you to be happy, MJ

The more the alcohol hit me, the more I just wanted him to come here and hold me. I sighed.

Me: ok

Peter: I’ll be there in 10 love

I put my phone down.

Maybe eating was a good idea. Hadn’t done a lot of that today.

I got up and went to the kitchen, stumbling just a little, and opened the fridge. It was still mostly empty.

I opened the freezer, and there was one of those frozen dinner boxes sitting in it. I pulled it out.

Three cheese macaroni didn’t sound so bad right about now.

I tore open the box, and shoved the dish in the microwave, setting it to go for a couple minutes.

When Peter got there, I was sitting on the floor of the kitchen, eating macaroni. He seemed to deflate as he looked at me.

“Hey, MJ,” he said, putting his backpack down by my door and coming to sit next to me.

“Heyyyy.”

“You feeling alright?”

“I feel great. I haven’t even been thinking about my dad. Also, this is reeeeaaaally good mac ‘n’ cheese. Here, try some.” I scooped some up and held it up. He gave me a defeated look, then opened his mouth and let me feed it to him.

“I’m glad you’re enjoying your evening,” he said after swallowing.

I nodded, shovelling more mac ‘n’ cheese into my mouth.

Murphy had wandered into the kitchen, saw Peter, and jumped into his lap, licking his face. I giggled, covering my mouth as Peter tried to hold him back a little.

“Hey, bud. I missed you too,” he said, face scrunched up as Murphy licked him. “You gotta get off of me, okay? I’m trying to take care of your mom.”

“Murphy, sit.”

Murphy got off of Peter and sat down next to him.

“Good boy,” I mumbled, eating another spoonful of macaroni.

Peter gave me a concerned look. “Is this the first thing you’ve eaten today?”

I frowned, thinking. “No, I ate a protein bar this morning. Miles keeps them in his locker in case I don’t have a lunch.”

Peter sighed, tipping his head back against the cupboards. “Okay, I’m gonna start bringing you lunches.”

“You don’t hafta do that, babe,” I slurred.

“I know, but you need to eat one way or another.”

“What did I do to deserve you?”

He kissed my temple. “Just eat your macaroni and we can cuddle afterwards.”

Oooooh. Cuddles. Intriguing.

I finished my mac ‘n’ cheese, then Peter took the plastic dish away from me, throwing my spoon in the dishwasher and the dish in the trash.

“Come on, let’s get you ready for bed.”

“It’s only nine.”

“I know, but if we get you ready for bed and then you fall asleep while we’re cuddling, I don’t have to wake you up to get you ready for bed then.”

I sighed. “You make some good points.” I held out my hands, and he grabbed them, pulling me up. Once on my feet, I stumbled forward into his chest. “Oops! Sorryyy.”

“It’s okay, MJ.”

I stood up straight. “See? I’m practically sober.”

He laughed. “Sure,” he said, humouring me.

He pulled me into the bathroom, helped me take off my makeup, held my waist so I didn’t fall while I brushed my teeth, and helped me change into pyjamas.

“Do you want me to carry you to your room?” he asked.

“No, I can walk.”

I started to head out of the bathroom, and immediately stumbled, throwing a hand out and grabbing the doorframe to catch myself. I stood up straight again.

“I’m fine. I can walk.”

Peter kept a hand on my back, guiding me into my room. Once we were in, I flopped down on the bed. He spotted the bottle on my dresser, and picked it up, inspecting it.

“How much of this did you drink?”

I shrugged. “I dunno. It was full when I opened it.”

He held it up so it was level. “Jesus, MJ.”

I shrugged again. He sighed. “Okay, I’m gonna change and brush my teeth and stuff. Then I’m gonna make sure Murphy has food and water. Then I’m gonna make sure you have water.”

I frowned. “I don’t want water. I’m fine.”

“MJ, if you don’t drink the water, I’m sleeping on the couch.”

I sighed. “Fine.”

He left the room, so I threw back the covers and laid down.

I wondered if one day I wouldn’t stop soon enough, and Peter wouldn’t be here taking care of me, and I’d die of alcohol poisoning or something.

The thought didn’t scare me. Maybe in death I’d be able to see Dad again.

Peter came back in with a glass of water. I sat up, giving him puppy eyes.

“I reeeeaaaaally don’t want water.”

He looked like he was gonna give in for a second, but then he held it out. “Come on, you know the deal. No water, no cuddles.”

I sighed, taking the glass and drinking half of the water. I tried to hand it back to him, but he crossed his arms, so I drank the rest.

“You’ll thank me in the morning, love.”

He put the glass on my nightstand and crawled into bed next to me.

“Do you wanna put a movie on or something?”

I shook my head, getting on top of him.

“MJ, what are you doing?”

“I’m just thinking-”

“Oh, no.”

“-if when I’m drunk, I don’t think about Brandon, then maybe we can finally have sex and I’ll be okay.”

“You’re drunk, babe.”

“Yeah, I know, that’s why-”

“No, that makes this rape. If we have sex right now, I’ve raped you.”

I flinched.

“Just lay down, we can figure out everything else some other time.”

I shook my head. “I can’t keep making you wait-”

He gently pushed me off, rolling on top of me. For a second, I thought he was going to go along with it, but then he said, “I’ll wait ten years if that’s what it takes. Or twenty. Or fifty, it doesn’t matter. But I’m not having sex with you drunk. I’m not raping you.”

“It’s not rape if I’m consenting,” I argued, even thought I knew he was right.

“MJ, you know better than that.” He pushed some hair out of my face. “We can talk about this when you’re sober, okay?”

“Wait, no, just because I’m drunk doesn’t mean we can’t talk about this.”

He shook his head. “I need you to have a clear head for that, okay?” He laid down next to me again. I stared at the ceiling for a few minutes.

“Why do you always talk down to me when I’m drunk?”

“What?”

“You make me feel like a stupid little kid.”

“I-I don’t mean to, MJ, I’m sorry.”

I sighed. “You’re forgiven.”

I rolled onto my side, facing away from him.

“Are you mad at me?” he asked.

“I dunno,” I admitted.

“Do you want me to spoon you?”

I sighed. “Yeah.”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure.”

He scooted up behind me, his body curling around mine, arms wrapping around me. I leaned into him.

“MJ?”

“Mhm?”

“I love you. You know that, right?”

“Yeah, I know. I don’t know why you do, because I’m kind of the worst right now, but I know you do.”

“Just because you’re going through stuff doesn’t make you hard to love,” he whispered, arms squeezing me. “You’re still amazing in every way.”

I squeezed my eyes shut. I didn’t know why, but this was hard to hear.

“I love you, too, Peter.”

“I know you do.”

He planted a soft kiss on my shoulder, then pulled me against him a little.

I drifted off in no time.

**February 6 th **

I woke up to Peter standing next to the bed, one hand gently squeezing my shoulder, the other holding a bottle of Advil. There was a glass of water on my nightstand.

“Morning,” I groaned.

“Good morning to you, too. How’s your head?”

“It feels like…you know that scene in The Lion King where Mufasa gets thrown off a cliff and then stampeded to death?”

He frowned. “I didn’t need a reminder, but yes.”

“That’s what my head feels like.”

He opened the bottle of Advil and poured out two, then handed them to me. I grabbed the glass of water as I took the pills, swallowing some water with them.

“Thank you.”

“Of course, MJ. You should get up, though, or we’re gonna be late.”

“Right. School. That’s important.”

He helped me out of bed. “I brought an extra hoodie in my bag if you want it,” he told me.

“First of all, you’re the best boyfriend on Earth. Second, of course I want it.”

He laughed, unzipping his backpack and tossing me a black hoodie. I held it up to my face, breathing in.

“You’re a creep,” he teased, laughing.

“You’re enabling me.”

“Fair enough.”

I grabbed a pair of leggings and a bra out of my dresser, and started to change. Peter changed into his spare clothes.

I headed into the bathroom to wash my face. Peter wandered in a couple minutes later, looking down at his phone.

“I’m gonna pre-order from Starbucks so we can just swing by and get it.”

I chucked. “Swing by. Ain’t that your specialty.”

He shook his head at me, laughing. “You’re a dork.”

“Not as big of a dork as you.”

He came over to the sink and brushed his teeth with me, and then we got our stuff together and went downstairs to get in his car.

My head still ached, so I closed my eyes while we were driving to Starbucks, trying to block out the sun. Peter was kind enough not to put on music.

When we got to Starbucks, the drive-thru line was ridiculous.

“I’ll just run in and grab our breakfasts.”

“I can come with you and help carry-”

“MJ, I’m Spider-Man, I’ll be fine.”

“Is that gonna be your excuse whenever I offer to help?”

“Yep. Get used to it.”

He got out of the car and ran in, winking at me just before he disappeared through the doors. He came out a few moments later, carrying two iced coffees and two paper bags. I reached over and opened the car door for him.

“A croissant and a coffee for the prettiest girl in New York,” he said, handing me a bag and a coffee.

“You’re cheesy.”

“So’s the croissant.”

I laughed. “I love you.”

“Love you, too.”

He put his coffee in the cupholder and handed me his croissant to hold, then kissed me. We pulled out of the parking lot and headed to school.

**February 12 th **

“MJ, are you sure you want to chase vodka with iced coffee? At ten on a Tuesday?”

I giggled. “Can’t you order decaf?”

Peter sighed. It sounded weird through the phone. “Okay. I’ll be there in a few.” He hung up.

I laid back down on the floor. I really didn’t deserve a boy like him.

He showed up at my door a few minutes later.

“One decaf iced coffee and one pint of ice cream.”

I sat up as he handed me the coffee. “Babe, I didn’t ask for ice cream.”

“I know, but you always want some, don’t you?”

I giggled. “I love you.”

“I love you, too. No spiking your coffee, though, you’re already drunk.”

I pouted. “Can I spike it with ice cream?”

“What, like an ice cream float?” I nodded. He took the coffee out of my hand. “Alright, but I’m gonna taste it, because this sounds kind of genius.”

I laughed. “Thanks, love.”

He went into the kitchen and scooped some ice cream into my coffee, then took a sip. “Yep, you’re still smart when you’re drunk.”

I started to get up to run over and taste it, and then fell back on my ass. Peter laughed, bringing my coffee over.

“I take it back.”

“Hey!”

He smiled again, handing me my coffee and pressing a kiss to my forehead.

“Okay, drink up, and then we’re getting you to bed.”

“I don’t wanna sleep,” I whined, taking a sip.

“Why not?”

“I don’t wanna have nightmares.”

Peter’s face fell. “You’ve been having nightmares? What about?”

I shrugged. “Some nights they’re about my dad, some nights they’re about Brandon, some nights it’s like I’ve been drugged again.”

Peter looked at me, big brown eyes sparkling as they started to water. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

I turned my head away. “You’ve got enough to deal with, Peter,” I mumbled.

“No, MJ, you- I want you to tell me this stuff, so I can help you-”

“How would you help me, exactly?” I asked. “Do you know how to stop me from dreaming about dying?”

He deflated a little. “I can’t stop it, but if you wake me up after you’ve had a nightmare I can help you calm down- I know I don’t know exactly how to help but I- I can try.”

I stared at him. I really didn’t deserve him. I didn’t know what I’d do when he realized that and left for good.

“Okay,” I breathed.

“Let’s get you to bed.” He took my coffee and put it in the fridge, put the ice cream in the freezer, and then came back to where I was sitting on the living room floor. “Do you want me to carry you?”

I gave him puppy eyes. “Yeah.”

He smiled softly, scooping me up and carrying me into my room.

**February 14 th **

I went home after school and got all dolled up. Peter hadn’t told me what he had planned, but he did tell me what time to meet him at his place. I put on a blue button down, some dark wash jeans, curled my hair into big waves, and did my makeup. I stood in the mirror, wondering if I was underdressed for whatever Peter had planned.

I sighed, giving in. I took a picture of my reflection, and sent it to Peter.

Me: Am I dressed up enough?

Peter: oh my god you’re so beautiful

Peter: yeah wear that

I laughed. He was adorable.

Me: okay I’ll be over soon then thanks babe

Peter: can’t wait :)

I made sure Murphy’s bowls were filled, and then grabbed my coat and keys and headed out.

I found myself readjusting my shirt over and over again, smoothing it down religiously as I walked down the hall to Peter’s apartment. I stood in front of his door, knuckles barely touching it before it swung open.

He was wearing a burgundy dress shirt and black pants, and he’d clearly put effort into his hair. He was playing with the cuffs of his sleeves nervously, smiling softly at me.

God, he was adorable.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” he said. “You look…amazing, MJ.”

I laughed. “So do you.” I realized all the lights in the apartment were dim. “Are we- where are we-”

“Oh, no, come in,” he said, taking my hand and pulling me into the apartment. I looked into the kitchen. He had dinner set up on the table, candle-lit and all. The plates were covered, so whatever was underneath was a surprise, I guess.

“I didn’t have anything too fancy, but-”

I grabbed him and turned him to face me, and kissed him. He froze for a second, surprised, and then kissed me back, hands landing on my waist and pulling me closer.

I slowly pulled away. “It’s perfect. I love you.”

He smiled. “I love you, too.”

He let go of me, and pulled my chair out for me. I sat down.

“So, what’s for dinner?” I asked. He lifted the cover (which was just another plate sitting on top of the first plate upside-down) to reveal macaroni and cheese.

“Like I said, nothing fancy. I did buy sauce from La Marinara, though.”

“Wait, really?”

“Yeah, I used it as a base for the cheese sauce,” he said, almost sheepish.

I laughed. “That’s adorable. Thank you, babe.”

He sat down across from me, and watched as I took the first bite.

“Oh my god, that’s good.”

He sighed with relief. “I’m glad you like it.”

We had a nice meal. We chatted, joked around, played footsie under the table. Peter had a few pieces of jerky on the table to feed to Thwip when she inevitably sat down next to us, begging for food.

I didn’t feel the urge to drink all evening.

After dinner, I helped Peter clean up, then we decided to exchange gifts. I grabbed his gift out of the inner pocket of my jacket. It was in an envelope, sealed with wax (because I had to do the most, I guess). He went into his room, and came out with a small, dark brown box, wrapped in pale pink ribbon. We sat down on the couch in the living room.

“Alright, it’s not much, because I’ve been spending all my money on dog food and baby rattles lately, but here you go. I hope you like it,” I said, handing him the envelope. I watched nervously as he opened it, pulling out the sheets inside. There was a poem I’d written, and two sheets of stickers, all handmade. I’d drawn our Christmas Eve kiss, us holding hands in the hallway, me kissing his cheek, us dancing at the Stark Gala last June, our dogs sleeping on the floor together, us napping on the couch together, and a few little spider-related doodles. He read the poem, mouthing the words as he did, then looked up at me.

“I hope you know this is going in my locker.”

“Look at the stickers,” I said.

He looked through those, too, then dropped all of the sheets on the coffee table and hugged me. “I love it. All of it. You’re the best.”

I laughed, hugging him back. “I figured you’d appreciate some stickers.”

He pulled away, kissing my nose. “I’m gonna plaster those everywhere.”

“Maybe not everywhere, babe. You might reveal your secret identity,” I teased.

He laughed, then handed me the box. “Okay, open it.”

I pulled the ribbon off and lifted the lid off. Inside was a bracelet. It had jade beads and one rose quartz bead. The rose quartz bead had a silver ring around it.

“It, um, has a tracker in it. And if you- if you squeeze down on the pink one, it’ll click, and that sends a distress signal to me and Mr. Stark. In case you’re ever in trouble.”

“Do you- do you mind if I try?”

“Yeah, sure. Lemme just text Mr. Stark so he knows it’s a false alarm.” He pulled out his phone and sent out a text. I pulled the bracelet out of the box and tried it on. The beads were cool against my skin. I pinched the rose quartz bead between my fingers, and the top half sank into the silver strip a little, clicking.

“That’s really cool.”

“Thanks, I made it myself.”

I hugged him. “Thanks, babe.”

“Happy Valentine’s Day. Wanna change into some sweats and watch Netflix?”

“Always.”

So that’s what we did. I stole some of Peter’s clothes, and we got ready for bed, then cuddled up in his room, under the covers, and watched Netflix. Thwip came and laid down next to the bed, too. If we had Murphy here, we’d be one big happy family.

“Wait,” I said, reaching forward and pausing the movie. “What do I do if I accidentally send you a distress signal?”

“Press it again really quickly,” he explained. “That cancels it.”

I sighed, relaxing. “Okay.”

He laughed, squeezing me. “You’re cute.”

I scowled, playfully, so he kissed me.

“Alright, let’s finish the movie.”

I didn’t make it to the end of the movie. I fell asleep, face nuzzled into his neck, feeling his lips on my forehead just before I drifted off.

**February 22 nd **

Miles and Cindy walked into the apartment as Peter and I were setting up Mario Kart.

“Alright, let’s refresh on the rules of the night,” Miles said by way of greeting. “Losing team buys pizza for the winners. So, Peter, Cindy, I’d recommend scrounging up some cash.”

I laughed, standing up and offering my hand to Miles. He and I did our little handshake.

“Babe, I love you,” I said, “but I hope you know this is war.”

He shrugged. “All’s fair, then.”

We got our remotes and set up, Peter and Cindy on one side of the couch, Miles and I on the other.

“Cindy, if you play anything like you did at Liz’s birthday party last year, you’ll end up dead last,” I said.

“Watch it, Jones,” she warned, grinning. “I’ve been practicing.”

“With who, Betty?”

“Yikes,” Miles muttered. “I love that girl, but damn, she’d bad.”

We picked our characters and cars, picked our tracks, and we were off. Miles and I started well ahead, in second and third, as opposed to Peter and Cindy sitting at the back of the pack. Miles and I kept sharing knowing glances and smiles, confident in our abilities.

But then something weird happened. Cindy dodged every shell, banana, everything, with lightning fast reflexes. Miles and I exchanged a concerned look as she dodged a red shell he threw.

I knew Peter’s reflexes were good. Him speeding up alongside us wasn’t surprising. He was Spider-Man, after all. But Cindy? Cindy wouldn’t know what reflexes were if they hit her in the face.

She managed to butt in, earning second, right behind me.

Alright, whatever, it was just the first round, and I was still on top, so we were safe.

Second track, though, she blasted past me three seconds in, knocking me off the track as she did. Miles managed to catch up to her, and they were locked in first and second for a while.

Peter passed me, and I ended up in last.

Great.

The third track went better. I ended in second, Miles in fourth, Cindy and Peter in first and third, respectively.

By the fourth track, though, they were done playing games. They landed first and second.

Miles and I sat back, defeated and confused.

“What was that about me being so bad at Mario Kart?” Cindy asked.

Peter stifled a laugh.

I ignored her, getting up and getting my wallet, pulling my phone out to order a pizza. I punched in my card number, and ordered us a large pepperoni.

“Congrats, my dudes,” I said, coming back into living room and planting myself on Peter’s lap.

We sat on the couch and talked until the pizza arrived, then we set up a movie and hung out all night.

**February 23 rd **

“Are you sure? It’s a big favour-”

“Mrs. Jensen, it’s fine, I’m like ten minutes from the office.”

“Okay. I’ll email you everything. Thank you so much.”

“Yeah, of course. I told you I’d help out, so I’m helping out.”

“Tell them to call me if they need anything else. Thank you again, MJ.”

“No problem.”

She hung up, and my phone dinged a couple seconds later. I printed off the files she sent me as I called Peter.

“Hey,” he answered, sounding a little short of breath.

“Hi. You’re patrolling on the north end of Queens right now, right?”

“Yeah, what’s up?”

I grabbed my little red mask out of my desk drawer. “I’m gonna be there dropping off some paperwork for my step-mom. Can I get you to take me home?”

“Of course. Text me the address when you want me to come get you.”

“Thanks, babe. Love you.”

“Love you, too!”

The printer finished, so I grabbed all of the paperwork and put it in a file, then put that in my purse.

Okay, good to go.

I walked over to the office building. I guess my dad used to work here, and his accountant still worked here, and they needed some paperwork to deal with health insurance and such.

I headed up to the accounting floor, and walked up to the secretary.

“Hi, I’m here on behalf of Adina Jensen. I just have some forms to drop off for her accountant.” I pulled out the file and put it on the desk.

“Right, thank you. I’ll get these in his mailbox right away.”

“Have a nice day.”

“You too.”

I turned to leave the office, and bumped into someone.

“Oh, sorry-”

I looked up, and my stomach twisted.

Of course. Of course in a city of almost nine million people, I’d bump into Brandon randomly.

I booked it out of there, heart pounding, stomach turning, hands sweating. Why was he here? Why why why why why-

I paused once I was out in the hall, checking behind me.

He’s not gonna follow me, why would he-

He stepped into the hall, glaring at me. “You might’ve heard I had a nasty run-in with your friend Spider-Man,” he growled. “Too bad he’s not here for you now.”

I looked for the closest door.

A stairwell! Perfect.

I ran into the stairwell.

What the fuck kind of stairwell starts at the fifteenth floor and only goes up?

I hightailed it up the stairs, pushing every door as we passed.

Locked, locked, locked-

Open!

I pushed the door open, and ran out.

I was on the roof. I was trapped.

Shit shit shit shit shit shit shit.

Brandon came out of the stairwell, slowly advancing on me. “Well, looks like we’re all alone, aren’t we?”

I couldn’t breathe. I didn’t want him to touch me. I didn’t even want him to look at me.

“You wanna lay down and take it like a good girl, or are we gonna have to do this the hard way again?”

Oh, god.

I kept backing up as he advanced on me, until I was at the edge of the roof.

I could see Peter in the suit, two buildings over.

Brandon caressed my cheek, and I just about threw up.

“You’ve got nowhere to go, sweetie, face it.”

I pushed him off, and then squeezed the rose quartz bead on my bracelet until it clicked.

“I’d rather die.”

I turned, stepping up on the ledge, and jumping off.

It had occurred to be that maybe Peter wouldn’t get a signal right away, that he wouldn’t be able to catch me in time.

But I’d cried into bottles of vodka, wishing I were dead, and so it didn’t scare me as much as it probably should’ve.

It was almost nice. The air was rushing past me as I fell through the air. I felt like I was flying.

And then Peter’s arm wrapped around me, grabbing me out of the air. His full body hit me as he did, and knocked the air out of me.

We landed on a different rooftop a few seconds later.

“Correct me if I’m wrong,” he said, “but didn’t I ask you to text me? Not, like, jump off a roof?”

I panted, trying to catch my breath. “Brandon- Brandon was there. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you-”

“Whoa, slow down.” He put his hands on my shoulders. “Brandon?”

“I bumped into him and he- he chased me up to the roof- and he was being gross and creepy and-”

“Breathe, MJ. You’re hyperventilating.”

I started to sob. He pulled me into his arms, letting me cry into his shoulder.

“God, MJ, I was so scared I wouldn’t catch you,” he mumbled, tightening his arms around me. “What were you thinking?”

“That I’d rather die than let Brandon touch me again,” I whimpered.

“Look at me, love.”

I pulled away, wiping my face with the heel of my hand.

“Do you want to die?” he asked, voice soft and fragile-sounding.

I sniffled. “I mean…sometimes. Sometimes it just feels…like it’d be easier. Like how it’s easier to drink instead of talk about it.” I started to sob again. “I just…I don’t know if I’m ever gonna be okay again, because I wanna be the MJ you first fell in love with, not the damaged, broken MJ I am now.”

“Have you thought about killing yourself?”

I couldn’t look at him, not even the eyes on his suit. Because the answer was yes, I had. I’d spent so many nights home alone, wondering how much it’d hurt to jump off the fire escape, or if I’d be dead before the pain could register. Wondering if there was anything to overdose on in the apartment, or if I just had to drink enough vodka to give myself alcohol poisoning. Wondering if things could ever be okay again, or if this was my only out. Wondering if I could start over by ending it.

“MJ,” he said softly. “Have you?”

I nodded, looking at the group. “I wouldn’t- I wouldn’t do it, I promise. I know it’d hurt you and Miles and Mama Morales and Harry and Eli and Charlie, but it’s- I don’t know, it’s just a recurring thought.”

I was so glad his face was covered with the mask. I didn’t think my heart could handle seeing his face right now.

“Can you- can you please talk to someone? Someone who can help you?” he asked softly. “I can’t- I don’t have the training to help you like-like Miles’ mom could, but you…god, MJ, you need to talk to someone about this.”

I hated this. I felt small and weak and pathetic. “I haven’t told anyone, except for right now.”

“That’s- MJ, you know that’s dangerous.”

“I know, I know it is, but I couldn’t- I couldn’t deal with how I knew everyone was going to treat me,” I sniffled.

“Just talk to Mrs. Morales, then, okay? You don’t have to tell anyone but her. But you have to tell her, because I don’t know who else you’ll trust who can also help you.”

I still couldn’t look at him. “Okay.”

“Can I take you there right now?” he asked gently.

“Yeah.”

I pulled the red mask out of my pocket and pulled it on, hooking it behind my ears. He held out an arm, and I clung to the side of his body as he shot out a web.

We swung over to Miles’ apartment, and he dropped me off in the lobby.

“I gotta patrol some more, but do you wanna come by my place later and we can still have date night?”

I nodded. “Yeah, that sounds good. I’ll need the cuddles.”

He pulled me into a hug, then pulled away enough to rest his forehead on mine. “Okay. I’ll see you later, love.”

“See you later.”

I went into the building, and he whizzed off.

It didn’t occur to me what I mess I must’ve looked like until I knocked on the door to the Morales apartment. Mama Morales opened it, and looked me up and down.

“Honey, what’s wrong?”

“I- I need help. Just- I’m- I’m a mess, Mama, and I can’t seem to fix it and I- I wanna be okay again. I need help.”

She pulled me into the apartment, giving me tight enough to squeeze the air out of my lungs. “Of course, baby. Lemme make you some hot chocolate, and then we can talk as long as you need, okay?”

So that’s what happened. She made me hot chocolate, and we sat in the living room. I cried about my dad, and about Brandon, and I told her what it was like to die in Peter’s arms. I felt gross and pathetic, but she made me feel better.

Miles and Peter were right. She was the perfect person to talk to.

By the end of our conversation, I’d agreed to do two things. The first was to stop drinking to cope. Not to stop entirely, but to stop drinking to numb out my feelings and try to ignore my problems. The second was to try to open up a little more.

“Okay, honey, this is good progress. The fact that you’re getting help is progress. Now, go have a good night with your boyfriend, and sleep well, and I’ll see you soon, okay?”

I smiled, wiping my face dry. “Okay.”

She hugged me goodbye, and then I was off to Peter’s for the night.

When I knocked on the door, May opened it.

“Oh, hi, MJ, is Peter with you?” she asked, letting me into the apartment.

I frowned. “No, he told me to meet him here.”

May pressed her lips together, worried. “He was supposed to be home an hour ago.”

I could feel my chest tighten. “Okay, okay, let’s just call Tony.”

I dialled Tony’s number. He picked up on the third ring.

“Hey, kiddo, what’s up?”

“Peter was supposed to be home an hour ago,” I blurted. “Sorry, hi, Tony. Do you happen to know where he is?”

“Um, no, but I know what he’s doing.”

“What’s that?”

“Well, that’s top secret internship business.”

I took a deep breath. “Tony, are you telling me that you sent Peter off to run an errand for you, but you don’t know where he is?”

“He has a mission. I’m keeping tabs on him and his partner, don’t worry-”

“Partner?”

“I didn’t send him alone, that’d be irresponsible,” he said, like that should’ve been obvious. “Anyways, you and May will be the first to know if anything happens. Tell her I said hi, by the way, I haven’t really talked to her all day-”

“Wait, no, back up. Do you know when Peter will be back?”

“Nope. Don’t worry about him, though, MJ. He’ll be home safe and sound. I gotta go, have a good night.” _Click_.

I turned to May. “You’re superhero boyfriend sucks.”

She opened her mouth, then sighed. “Yeah, that’s fair.”

“I’m gonna- I’m gonna call Ned, to let him know what’s up.”

“Sounds good.”

I went into Peter’s room to sit on the bed as I called Ned. Thwip came into the room and jumped up on the bed next to me, resting her head in my lap.

“Hey, MJ, what’s up?”

“Peter’s on a mission. But Tony doesn’t know exactly where he is and wouldn’t tell me anything and- I don’t know, I figured you should…know what’s going on, I guess. I don’t want you to be out of the loop.”

“Yeah, I get it. Thanks, MJ.”

“No problem.”

“Are you okay? Do you need anything?”

“I’m- I’ll be okay. I’m with May. I think I’ll just wait here in case Peter gets in late or something.”

“Okay. Have a good night, MJ. Don’t stress too much.”

“Thanks, Ned. You too.”

I hung up, only for my phone to ring again. Miles’ picture popped up on my phone.

“Hey-”

“So, uh, I’m driving around with Cindy’s dog, because I think she’s missing and I’m kinda freaking out.”

“What?”

“Her parents don’t know where she is and she isn’t answering her phone and I know I’m being paranoid-”

“Peter’s gone, too, Miles.”

He stopped dead cold. “What?”

“I mean, I think it’s an internship thing, but Tony was super vague.”

There was a long silence. “Why would they both disappear at the same time?”

I was doing the math. Cindy wasn’t superpowered, wasn’t working under Tony, had nothing to do with that. She was, however, pretty close to Peter. They both disappeared, Tony knew what Peter was doing but wouldn’t tell me what or where he was-

“Do you think they’re…cheating on us?” I asked.


End file.
